What About Her?
by wordsaremyfriends
Summary: Snippets from the life of Virginia Potts. Pepperony. Completed, but author is currently re-editing. Up to Chapter 1 edited.
1. Real Job

Umm... Hi. :-)

**For those of you who recognize this story**, I apologize if you had your hopes up for an additional chapter. There won't be one. However, I am altering some of the content. A few weeks ago, I was looking through my old files and found this story. I read through it. And there were some parts I _did not_ like. So, I will be going through each chapter - one by one - and making alterations as I see fit. Some are simply gramatical corrections, others are scene changes. So no new chapter; but yes, there will be some new content. In fact, some chapters might be completely overhauled.

**For those of you who don't recognize this (old) story**: I wrote this a while ago after a friend challenged me to make Pepper a more fleshed out character. This is my attempt to do just that.

Enjoy! And I do not own IM.

**A Real Job**

Standing still and looking pretty is more difficult than it sounds. In fact, I've never been so glad to leave a job in my life: modeling was never really my kind of thing anyway- and now I'm not even sure why I got into it. Well, besides the money.

My high school friend Carla was a tall, thin, plain girl. Her family never had much money, so when she drove to school one day in a new car, I asked her how she got it. After a few jokes about being a street walker, she told me she'd gotten into modeling. She promised me it was the easiest thing in the world, and the only rule was you had to be tall and thin. I was the tallest and thinnest girl I knew- much to my dismay- and it sounded like a quick way to get money. This would help me to get through college. I was practically rabid after the idea; signed myself up at the same agency that exploited Carla, and sure enough- I made a lot of money. I did things I never thought I'd catch myself doing- being an introvert. I made friends in high places, got great dates, and even I have to admit that my pictures looked good. Whether that was me or the five inches of required makeup, I'm not sure. Nevertheless, I was successful. I was popular- a first for me. I was always quiet and shy, only speaking up if necessary. I was gaining confidence and self-respect. I was getting good grades in college. College was my biggest goal in life. I had always dreamed of being successful with whatever degree I achieved; yet when the time came, I didn't know what I wanted to do. Business, art, history, education. None of them were me. I was too caught up with my side job to bother much anyway. I had always been good with math, you might even say I got a bizarre pleasure out of it. And so I picked accounting. Of all the things in the world, I chose accounting, and it was only after my graduation ceremony that I realized I could do almost nothing with it- besides being an accountant. Thus, modeling became my career.

I'd been at it for five years; I was twenty-three now. I'd gone through two fiancés, one I caught with another model; the other claimed he saw no future for us. All my old friends had moved on. Most assumed I'd grown superficial, and I hope to God I hadn't. They were all married with kids, successful professionals. One was a pastry chef in Italy, for goodness sake. And here I was, sitting still for two hours so someone could put on that damn makeup and fix my hair; or standing in uncomfortable, sensual positions for a sexy shot of Prada eyewear. I decided life was passing me by, and the more I thought about it, the more unhappy I became. My fake camera smiles grew even faker, to the point of it looking more like a grimace than anything else. My come hither looks were laughable, and my confidence fell. I stopped partying and hanging out with guys because they had hot, expensive cars. I was almost antisocial, and in a matter of months, my "friends" gave up on me, and I quit. I wanted a _real_ job, something that actually required me to think. But what can you do with a degree in accounting?

I'd been out of work for a month. Most jobs I applied for either said I was under qualified, or they refused my references. Nothing fantastic and exciting was coming my way.

One morning- a Tuesday- I was driving back from the library, having quickly returned to my quiet, bookish ways. There was a huge group of buildings that I'd passed nearly everyday for several years, and for the first time, I looked at it. Stark Industries. Sure, I knew what it was- a weapons manufacturing company. The factories were in back, the offices in front. Labs and training facilities were sandwiched in the middle. I never heard much about it; weapons were never of particular interest to me. I only knew that the founder of the company, something Stark- obviously, had died nearly ten years ago, and that his son- another something Stark, had taken over. Now, I only knew this because of the rather _loud_ headlines on the smut magazines near cash registers. This something Stark slept with anything that had a pulse, and was also quite a genius. Never really cared, and I didn't care then either. I only cared about the wanted sign outside the main office. A sign that read "Help needed in accounting department." My lucky day. And I was quite sure that for once, I would be qualified for a job in ways other than height and waist to breast ratio. I wanted my education, my brains to matter. Of course, I still didn't want to do accounting, but you take what you get, right? Anyway, I started work there the following week, somehow managing to skip the interviewing process, save for the first one.

A rather portly man of forty called me into his office, looked me up and down, and gave me the job. He didn't look at my credentials once. My pride in a degree was for naught. However, I had a job; a serious job. I was bored with the work in six months, but isn't that part of being professional?

At first Mr. Folan, the aforementioned interviewer- and coincidentally, the head of the accounting department- played the tough guy with the new recruits. We were all genuinely terrified of him. He was obnoxious, loud, temperamental, and completely untrustworthy. We also discovered him to be a pompous blowhard. His tough guy antics were all for show- he was an idiot, and I was incapable of respecting him. After a year and a half with Stark Industries, I considered quitting. With a couple references, and over a year of a serious job under my belt, I figured I could go anywhere now. In fact, I'd decided to hand in my two weeks notice in about a month. England, with all its success and old beauty, was beckoning me- I even had a job already lined up. My life, my future seemed bright once more after being dimmed by the evil darkness that was Mr. Folan. I hadn't even had a boyfriend in a year. But everything was looking up; everything was fine, yet nothing- absolutely nothing- goes according to plan.

My desk had a stack seven inches high of papers that no one had checked, and everyone had approved. First was Mr. Stark's signature- stamped, of course. His name, by the way, is Anthony. I had finally figured it out. Second, was Mr. Folan's name, and under his was the stamp of everyone with seniority over me. And because of my almost freakish obsession with organization and perfection, I _had _to check every spreadsheet, every calculation. I couldn't just sign it and move on. That would be dishonest. As always, each page was correct- Tony Stark actually did work. Not much, but he did do most of the budget checks and stock sheets himself. Geniuses never mess up math.

Everything was perfect, until the second to last page. Apparently geniuses do make mistakes. It wasn't much of an error- two numbers had been flipped in one row, but when added to everything else, the year's projection was so far off I was in shock. This could completely mess up the company's stocks if it was released, and nobody had noticed.

I got up, and walked quickly to find Mr. Folan. My ridiculous shoes- the only sign left of my modeling days- made me a good four inches taller than him. There was this one oddly shaped bald patch on the very top of his head, and when I spoke to him, it was all I could see. It was terribly distracting, especially when I was trying to be serious.

Then it happened- the game changing moment. I almost bitch-slapped him, I was so angry. He told me, without even checking the page_ I had highlighted_, that I was completely wrong, as Tony Stark himself had done this. I argued, lost my temper with the short little fat man, and got fired in the span of about thirty seconds. Getting canned never looks good on a resume, so I knew England and that prestigious job were out of the question. I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to get references now. And most importantly, I knew that I was right. That was what pissed me off the most. I was right, my boss was wrong, and there was nothing I could do about it. No one was higher than Mr. Folan- hell, his damn office was next to Mr. Stark's-

Genius.

I rushed past Folan, who followed me as quickly as his little legs could carry him. I was far enough ahead to be able to stop and read a directory on the wall of where to go. I'd never actually been in this part of the building before. We lesser mortals didn't belong here. Heading straight for a glass and wood elevator, I immediately pushed the button for the next floor; the doors closed right in my former boss's face. I'm almost ashamed to say that I smiled.

It was impossible to miss Tony Stark's office- it was as huge and pretentious as his ego, I was soon to discover. The double doors were open. I didn't see anyone, but I charged in anyway. As soon as I entered I regretted my sudden overflow of confidence. A well dressed, dark haired man was standing with his back to me, facing the window. He was on the phone- I knew it was a woman from the language he was using. I stood there, frozen for what felt like hours, listening to his charm in full force. He was good. And now I knew why most of the female employees in this building had gotten laid by him at some point. Of course, these women were transferred to different companies, but there was a constant, steady stream of them coming and going. He nearly always had a personal assistant, and I wondered why they never lasted for more than a month. Well, that mystery was solved.

I cleared my throat; terrified or not, I was going to be heard. And yes, I was terrified- I had barged into the office of the company owner, who was also a billionaire several times over. He was incredibly powerful, making the weaslyFolan look like a complete waste of time. And here I was, unwanted and unasked for, in his office.

He turned around. He was clean shaven and attractive, but what caught me most were his brains. No, I couldn't see them, but I could tell from looking at him that he was, in fact, _very_ smart. Probably also a bit of a smartass, but that was beside the point. Once again, I was looked up and down. I never shrunk from this- it had once been my profession. Except, he didn't just subtly give me the once over. More like the ten times over. He hung up on whoever he was talking with, and stared at me, waiting for me to speak. Dear God, I thought I was going to vomit.

"Um. Mr. Stark?" I asked, trying to ignore the wobbling in my knees.

"Yes, Miss?-"

"Potts, sir. Virginia Potts." I sounded like a five year old, my voice was so small. I'm surprised he could even hear me. He took a couple steps forward, or should I say, swaggered in my direction. I was not entirely unimpressed- and not because he strutted well, but I am female- and I have eyes.

"Well, Miss Virginia Potts- it is Miss, right?" he asked. He looked like he was enjoying himself; no doubt I was squirming like the worms I accidentally decapitate in my garden.

"Absolutely- I mean yes-" I stuttered. I sounded desperate.

"What can I do for you?" He'd continued to move closer till he was in my personal space. Testing the water? I thought so. I may have been flustered, but I wasn't dumb.

I handed him the spreadsheet, stupidly pointing to the high lighted section.

"Pretty color," he mumbled. Never again use pink high lighter.

At first, I thought he was going to dismiss me like Mr. Folan had; instead his eyes scanned the entire page, mentally checking the math. "Huh. I switched two numbers. This entire projection is completely off. I wonder how I missed that," he said quietly.

Well, he was probably on the phone with some woman or other, but that didn't matter. He'd acknowledged that I was right. And now what? My mission complete, I had nothing else to do, nothing else to say, and nowhere else to go. I was about to excuse myself when a young man entered.

"Mr. Stark- your two o'clock is here. Miss, please come with me." Oops. I was intruding on claimed time, _and_ I was going to be escorted out. Fantastic. This guy, Tom… something, gently but firmly took my arm and began to guide me out.

"Wait- Miss Potts- I didn't think we were finished." My escort and I both made a dead stop. I turned around.

"You-" he commanded, pointing to Tom- "you can leave. I have business to discuss with Miss Potts."

"But Mr. Stark," Tom stammered, "a representative from Hammer Industries is here to meet with you." I was surprised he had the nerve to talk back, though Mr. Stark didn't look the least bit angry.

"Hammer Industries is not worth my time. I'll talk to them when I feel like it. And right now, I feel like talking to Miss Potts." When Tom stood, dumbfounded, he continued, "Alone." Tom slunk off, and shut the door behind him.

He walked back to his desk. The papers were placed next to his phone, and he sat down.

"Well, now that we have been left alone together," he continued. I closed my eyes, half expecting a proposition of some sort. "Miss Potts, I can't deny that I am very impressed with you."

My head shot up. Had he just complimented me? "Excuse me, sir?"

He smiled. "Well, Miss Potts, you were the first person out of seven to check my work. I'm not sure if I should be offended."

"About what, sir?"

"That you didn't trust my math implicitly, of course. Anyway, about being impressed with you- you look smart. I know you're smart. And honestly, I wouldn't have expected brains from someone who looks like you. Apparently, God does give with both hands."

Ok, he didn't _really _proposition me. He was just blatantly honest about what he felt. And thought. And fantasized about, as it turns out. Of course, I was completely flustered now; my cheeks were burning, and my eyes were glued to the floor. He had nice shoes.

"Miss Potts?"

I dragged my gaze upward.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"I want you to work for me. As my personal assistant." He was so matter of fact, you'd think this was a perfectly normal course of events for him. Hell, maybe it was.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sta-"

"You know perfectly well what I said. It'll be fine, Miss Potts. Decent work, _great_ benefits-" now _that_ was dirty- "and I can guarantee that you'll make three times as much as you do now, regardless of the department," he continued. What a weird guy.

"I'm not in any department right now. I was just fired." Honesty is the best policy after all.

This time, he looked shocked. "Who the hell would fire _you_? Whoever it was must not have seen your legs-"

"Mr. Folan fired me, sir. He didn't take me seriously when I claimed that you had made an error."

"That doesn't explain it."

"Hmm?" I questioned, confused.

He stood up again. "Folan canning you. Doesn't make sense. He's shorter than me- he's got a better view than I have."

I blushed again. It was starting to become a habit of mine. He walked closer.

"C'mon Miss Potts. Even though I can be a bit of an ass, being my PA is better than being homeless," he said, his tone both mocking and kind.

"I doubt I will ever be homeless, sir."

"Then what do you say?"

For a moment, I said nothing. This was just too weird. I mean, how often does this kind of thing happen?

Then, reality struck: I remembered that I was currently without a job, and that I have a rather expensive shoe habit. I would have to be an idiot to refuse.

"Yes."

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm very glad to hear that Miss Potts," and with that, he returned to his phone. I thought it was a sign to leave, but he kept watching me, so I stayed put.

"Yes- you- what's your name again? Ok, nice. Anyway, could you have Miss Virginia Potts' space cleared and packed? - Now. Well, find it… Where? In accounting. Bring it to the office next to mine. Yes, that one. I don't care." He hung up, and gave his attention to me. "So Miss Potts, my goons will have everything ready for you to move in a few minutes. They'll bring it up here for you- but you should probably check to make sure they get it all."

Wow. That was fast- and had he mentioned an office? I was getting my own office! The little girl inside me wanted to squeal.

"Where am I moving to, Mr. Stark?" I asked, making sure.

He gestured to the left. "There. It even has a door connecting to mine." I looked to the door- it had Mr. Folan's name on it.

"But sir, isn't it already occupied?"

"Yup. Folan's been there for a while, but he doesn't really need constant access to me. I think you do."

"But- but where will he go?"

"I don't know. They'll figure it out," he paused, noticing my disbelief. "Miss Potts, my past PA's have all had their own desk in here. You are the first one to have a whole office to herself." And I hadn't even started to work for him yet. "I think that, unlike the others, you'll actually do your job. I like that. Means less work for me."

"I-"

"No arguing. Go on, make sure everything's ready to go," he said softly.

I was smart. I didn't argue. I just gave him a small smile, and walked out.

When I came back to the accounting division, everything in my cubicle had already been neatly packed. There was no way it could have been done so quickly; Mr. Stark had only called a few minutes before. I assumed Mr. Folan had begun the emptying of my space, only to be interrupted with the news that I was getting his office.

To be sure, I opened each drawer- and each was empty. Even the locked one was deprived of its contents. My hands began to sift through the boxes, fingering the items that had been my life for the past year and a half. I was right- everything had been about to change. Just not in the way I expected.

My reverie was interrupted by Mary- a youngish woman in the cubicle next to me. We were alright, though never friends. She could be a little _much_ sometimes. She stood, one hand on her hip, the other on the wall- almost looking provocative.

"So," she cooed. "I hear you're moving up in the world."

"What?" I answered dumbly.

She looked bewildered. "You're his assistant now- you're gonna be Tony Stark's PA! How the hell did you do that?"

Should I have told her the whole story? How I was so offended over a math error that I just barged in and-

No.

"I just walked into his office."

"Huh?" She didn't understand. She didn't know I was annoyed over how I got the job: looks over qualifications. Again.

"Nothing. It's just- I got another job because of my legs."

She smirked. "You keep them open?"

I didn't laugh.

**So not many alterations for this one. There will be more in future chapters.**

**Please take a moment to review! I like to know how I'm doing. :-)**


	2. Pepper

Thank you for reading and reviewing. This chapter was meant to go one direction, and went the complete opposite way. That's ok though. Writing this made me smile.

Pepper

Considering the unorthodox way in which I was hired, my new job was relatively normal. Mornings began with coffee- black only if he had a hangover, which was pretty frequently. Afternoons consisted of fulfilling the day's agenda, and later, I kept him company while I did his work for him.

After my first three days on the job, I was used to my new boss- well, he'd always been my boss, just more directly now- and he was used to me. The "Miss" had been almost completely dropped, and oddly enough, I knew plain "Potts" was a sign of endearment. He never called me Virginia though. He believed it made me sound like a little old lady.

I liked him. Genuinely cared about him. He was one of the oddest, most egotistical people I'd ever met, yet it didn't bother me in the least. That was just the way he was. Nothing could ever change that, and I accepted the fact. I knew he liked me as well; enough to prevent him from making any real advances toward me, though I have to admit I was terrified for a while that he would fire me if I didn't sleep with him. Hell, he didn't even need a bed.

"Potts- do you like my desk?" he asked one day, entirely out of the blue. It caught me off guard, and he noticed. I know he did, because he smiled. He had a puppy dog smile when he wasn't putting on affectations for an audience.

"Umm," I mumbled, thinking. It _was_ a nice desk- glass, handsome hardwood-

Wait.

"I do like your desk- but not for that," I added, seeing the glint in his eyes.

"Oh come one, _Miss_ Potts. You can be my _really personal _personal assistant."

I feigned innocence. "But I already am your personal assistant, Mr. Stark."

"Poppycock. You just can't admit to yourself that you are wildly attracted to me." That was beside the point.

I giggled. "Did you just say _poppycock_?"

"As a matter of fact I did. And as you are my employee, I have the right to fire you for making fun of me. So there," he finished, sticking his tongue out at me. I knew he was joking, but the professional side of me insisted on keeping a straight face. I failed miserably, but not before making one of those grotesque snorting noises. That only made me laugh harder- I _had_ just imitated a pig after all. Five minutes later, I began to cry. Mr. Stark plopped himself down on the sofa next to me- a little too close, but under the circumstances, I didn't mind. He put his hand on my back, rubbing across my shoulders to calm me down.

"Potts- shh- you're going to hurt yourself-" he whispered, before opening a can of soda. He was smiling, trying not to laugh himself.

His comment made me conscious of an ache beginning to well up in my stomach. I'd laughed myself silly, and I couldn't stop.

"I- hee hee- ow- _hee!_- my tummy hurts!" I gasped between giggles.

The swig of coke he'd just taken went everywhere. _Everywhere_. All over him, all over me, all over the floor. God, his aim sucked. It was hysterical. I'd never seen a thirty year old laugh quite like that before. It was several minutes before either of us calmed down. When we did, I was nursing my aching tummy, and he was rubbing the bridge of his now clogged nose. I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and saw him doing the same to me. We both smiled.

"God, you are pale. I've never seen a woman as pale as you," he said.

I questioned him with my eyes.

"You're face is so red. It's amazing- kinda sexy in a weird way. Makes me think of-"

"Mr. Stark, my face wouldn't be so red if you hadn't made me laugh!"

"_I_ made you laugh? You got the giggles over… what the hell were we even laughing over?" We both chuckled lightly. "Besides, it's not my fault you like a chili pepper when you laugh. You should more often."  
"I should what?"

"Laugh. It's fun. It's nice. It's less formal. _You_ are way too formal. Sometimes it's like you've got a rod shoved-"

"And when are these times, Mr. Stark?"

"When you're trying to be totally professional. You don't have to be, it's not like I'm going to fire you if you don't act perfectly all the time. Calm down, relax- you know, I'm a big fan of casual Fridays."

"How casual, Mr. Stark?"

"Um, bikinis are nice."

I gaped at him. "I am _not_ wearing a bikini to work!-" His evil grin shut me up.

"See? You just yelled at me, and I have no intention of firing you. It's okay to yell at me, I really don't mind. It's unprofessional. I like it. Do it more often Potts." He paused for a moment, looking at my face. "You even have red hair. And little, reddish freckles. You match."

The way he jumped from one subject to another was a little confusing. His motor-mouth self couldn't stay interested in one subject for long.

"Hmm?"

He sat up straight, intent on something. "How would you like to have a nickname?"

"Mr. Stark?" What was he up to now?

"You know, a pet name. Something more friendly than 'Potts.' We've been together for almost three months- that's the longest relationship I've ever had with a woman."

Three months? Seriously? I was ready to tease him about that, but then I remembered something: he's my boss. No matter what he says about the worthlessness of professionalism, I like to at least preserve a façade of it. We weren't friends. Not now, maybe not ever. Being friendlier than necessary would be inappropriate.

"Whatever you like."

"You know, I could say something dirty about that: there is this one fantasy- you're turning red again! Does it hurt to turn that particular shade of crimson? Reminds me of a lobster."

Was _that_ what he wanted to call me? Boss or not, there was no way in hell I was going to be called that. He must have seen the panicked look on my face because he started to laugh again.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to call you 'Lobster.' That would just be awkward, especially in public," he said, gesturing with his hands as though they were lobster claws. Then he looked at me appraisingly. "How about 'Pepper'?"

Seriously? He was going to name me after a plant? Then again, it wasn't nearly as bad as being named after a crustacean, so…

"Umm, sure," I answered. I literally had no idea what this meant or entailed.

"Okay then," he said, slapping his knees, then standing up. He stepped right in a spot of soda.

"Oh crap. Forgot about that."

I had too. My new blouse was covered with golden polka dots, and my left arm felt sticky. Hopefully, it was just soda and not mucus. I stood up also.

"I can have this cleaned," I said, motioning toward the sofa. I was about to ask after his shirt, but he was already pulling it off and handing it to me.

"Sorry about that," he muttered. He was embarrassed, and a little proud of himself too. Typical male- likes to mark things as his territory with bodily fluid.

"No need to be. We just got out of control, it's wasn't your fault-"

"Would you say that under entirely different circumstances?"

I said nothing for a moment, taking in his suggestive expression. There was something oddly harmless in his lechery. There was nothing in it; no offense or real sexual invitation meant. It was almost affectionate- I knew that he genuinely liked me. It lent me confidence to deal with an otherwise unmanageable person, and if he ever did anything that upset me, I knew he hadn't meant to. It became, in a sense, normal.

Something pulled me out of my reverie; I'm not sure what. Looking at his shirt, I asked, "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts," he replied, smiling back at me. As I began to walk away, he added, "but it's 'Pepper' tomorrow."

And thus I was baptized.

What do you think? I figured explaining her nickname would be the most logical place to go next. I hope this satisfies.


	3. The Women

This took longer to write than I expected. Oh well. I hope it was worth the wait for all of you!

The Women

The first one was named Melinda. I went in search of my boss, and found her in his room instead.

I actually took the time to get to know a little about her. She was a model; we had contacts in common. She was smart, successful, polite, calm- and she also knew exactly what she had been doing last night. Went out with friends, partied, got drunk, and had sex. She knew who was groping her despite her inebriation. In fact, she knew more than I did. She knew that one of the tasks I would have to perform was the "clearing out" of any unwanted guests: the leftovers from previous nights.

I suppose I was lucky that the first one was so accommodating. There was a strange sort of bond we felt for each other- I got some cereal; we had cheerios while we waited for the car to be ready. She recommended that I make a real service out of it, like getting their clothes dry-cleaned and so forth- make the process a lot easier. The experience was strange and surreal- oddly dreamlike. Knowing that Mr. Stark was buried in his workshop- and was unlikely to emerge- helped too. Eventually, the car came; she left after we wished a mutual "good luck," and I went downstairs, changed. Mr. Stark was working on the hotrod.

"What happened?" he asked without looking up.

"Nothing," I said. But something _had_ happened. I found myself looking at him disdainfully for a while afterward. The fact that he would bring home a random woman, have sex with her, and then abandon her for me to take care of was cowardly and disgusting. He felt no shame in leaving me to discover naked beauties dreaming away in his bed. He let me deal with their drunken antics, their broken hearts, their incredibly pissed attitudes. He let me handle everything. Sometimes I had to scrounge around under the rather abused bed in search of his one-nighter's panties. Out of respect, I said nothing regarding his behavior. I just took it. The first few months had been the honeymoon. Now the "gentleman" act was gone; the inner caveman had come out to play. And now that my "taking out the trash" virginity had been lost, he felt no need to hold back. For years, women bounced in and out of his bed like it was a trampoline; and I got to dress them the next morning. Of all the unsavory things my job required, this was the worst.

I resented these women who flaunted their breasts and thighs. I felt they were whores- sleeping with whoever happened to be closest, and Mr. Stark always managed to be in the vicinity. At first, I didn't cast him in with the lot of freaks I dealt with. I _knew _him. He was different. And because I knew him, I understood that he had certain redeeming qualities that could erase any taint to his name. But the rose-colored glasses lose their tint after a while. Eventually, I was forced to admit that he was, in fact, a slut. The worst of them all. These hapless models didn't make it into his room on their own- they were given an open invitation. Yet my fondness for him overshadowed my contempt for his behavior. I pulled all emotion out of these morning trash collections. That was just the way it was; nothing was going to make Mr. Stark change.

People don't change.

After a year of his shenanigans, I took a long awaited day off- yes, I am _that_ much of a workaholic. This happened to coincide with a date I'd made with Mark Davis- the manager of the technological department at Stark. He was nice, decent looking, and smiled a lot. I had the advantage of knowing almost nothing about him- unlike Mr. Stark, of whom I'd discovered too much.

Needless to say, if I _had_ known Mark well, I would never had gone out with him. He was dull, mindless, and his arrogance was too much, even for me. As he recounted a ludicrous tale of hunting monster elk in Nebraska, I silently prayed for an excuse to escape. My prayer was answered. My phone rang. I made my necessary apologies, and Mark- playing the gentleman in hopes of getting lucky- said it was no problem, happened to him all the time. I can guarantee what happened to me that night has _never_ happened to him. I left the table and stood near the bar.

"Hello?"

Nothing. Just someone breathing.

"Hello?" I said again. Well, if it was a prank caller, I'd tell Mark it was something urgent, and that I needed to leave. He'd never know. But I didn't have to lie.

"Pep- Pepbbperr-" someone slurred. It was Mr. Stark. Of course.

"Yes, Mr. Stark? It_ is_ my night off-"

"I nee-eed helpp. Tied upp-"

What the hell? If he was tied up, how was he calling me?

"Mr. Stark, what is going on?" I asked him how he managed to call me if he was in bonds.

"I'm in - uh- shack- shackles. Jarvis- speaker- called-"

Of course. His newest toy was pretty much a computerized version of Bruce Wayne's Alfred. It even had a funny accent. In a way, it was convenient: it cooperated perfectly to voice commands, yet I did find it to be a little bizarre. There were even speakers in each room designed to give Jarvis access, and I hoped to God there wasn't a camera in the room I occasionally used. But that was how he called me- he had Jarvis do it. That's how he did everything- pawned it off on someone else. Anyway-

"Well, tell Jarvis to play nicer next time and not treat you so rough, okay?" I said, taking advantage of his drunken state.

"Not Jarvis- model- bra-" That would be the Victoria's Secret model he'd been ogling. Apparently she wasn't such an angel.

He asked me to come and free him, and I recklessly agreed. Anything to get away from this awful date. By the time I got back to the table however, Mark had already paid and left. I must admit I was little hurt. Hypocrite that I am, I was content to dump him, but annoyed that he dumped me. At least I didn't have to give the "I don't think we're soul mates" speech.

I drove quickly- now that Mark had been disposed of, I wished I hadn't agreed to loose Mr. Stark. I wanted to get the entire process done as quickly and painlessly as possible. Well, painless was already out. My feet were sore and exhausted. First dates always required high shoes. At least, higher than usual for me. That pretty much meant I was walking on a six inch needle.

Needless to say, I was in a rather pissed mood. My feet hurt, I got dumped by a man _I _intended to dump, and now- on my night off- I had to untie my boss.

Jarvis gave me access to the house- well, mansion- and I hobbled up to his bedroom. There was _no _way I was going barefoot. I opened the door, and to my surprise, horror and absolute shock, I _did_ find Mr. Stark tied to his bed. And he was stark naked- no pun intended. Oh. My. God. I wanted to throw up.

Instead, I screamed. This woke him up from his drunken stupor, and he smiled as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Oh, Pepbbper- I'm soo glad you came-" His voice wandered, hitting five different octaves in the one sentence.

I instinctively moved to escape from the room, but he called after me. He sounded so pitiful I decided to put my embarrassment aside. To the best of my ability.

"Mr. Stark. You need my help?" Well, it was _something_ to say.

"My arms fell aslee-eep," he hiccupped. "Can't get them down. Tied upp."

I walked to his left side and examined the shackles. I had never seen fuzzy pink handcuffs before. I guess there's a first for everything.

"Mr. Stark- Mr. Stark? Where's the key?" His eyes were lazily rolled back and he was smiling. What the hell had I done to deserve this. I yelled his name.

"Oh, Pep- tied up. Hellpp."

"Yes, I know. Where is the key?"

He looked genuinely confused. I dug through my purse and pulled out my house keys.

"Like this, only smaller," I said, shaking them at him.

He giggled like a schoolgirl. "That's what she said."

"Mr. Stark! This is _not_ funny. If you want me to help you, tell me where the damn keys are!" I screeched. I was pissed, perhaps unreasonably so. I mean, it's not like he wanted to be strung up. Right?

"Calm down," he muttered. My yelling seemed to have cleared his mind somewhat. " 'sunder the bed. I think- thought-"

I knelt down and cautiously swept my arm on the floor. The cold metal startled my fingertips. I pulled them out, only to find that the keys had a leopard print design on them.

My feet hurt worse than ever. I put my knees on the side of the bed, as absolutely far away from him as possible. I didn't want to catch any cooties. Like a cold, for that matter. It _was_ a little chilly.

The first key didn't work. The second did. The cuff came apart; his right arm fell with a thud. As I tried to pull the key out, it got stuck in the lock. Dammit. He swayed his free arm around like he was conducting an orchestra.

"Mr. Stark- the key-"

"Don't care- the stars are pretty tonight-"

"If I can't get the key out, your other arm will be stuck forever," I said a tad maniacally. The prospect actually scared him. With his right hand, he pulled harder than I ever could have, and put the key in my hand.

"Your welcome, Peppperr," he slurred.

I moved to the other side and repeated the ritual. The key came out easily that time. His left arm fell free also. He rubbed his hands together quite happily. I noticed the left one was beginning to turn blue. I smiled.

"What time is it?" He sounded surprisingly lucid.

I didn't know.

"Jarvis!" he shouted. "Time!"

"It is currently one forty-eight a.m., sir." it answered respectfully.

"Hungry- hung over too. How 'bout you? Look awfully nice," he continued. His big eyes suddenly widened further than I thought possible. "Oh, Pepperrr- 'm sorry. I ruined a date huh? Sorry." He sounded a little hysterical.

"No, no, Mr. Stark. It was a bad date-"

"So it was a date?"

"Yes."

"But bad?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

"Okay," he said. He almost sounded glad.

I sighed. "You wanted something to eat?" I wasn't tired. There really wasn't a point in going home only to come back six hours later.

"Yup. Ravenous." He growled like Tigger. So he wasn't completely lucid yet.

I went to his closet and grabbed some clothes. He objected to putting them on at first, but relented when I threatened to leave. We wobbled downstairs together. After a bowl of lucky charms for him and a protein shake for me, we both calmed down. It was amazing how quickly he could shake off the effects of alcohol.

"Sorry 'bout that. Everything was fine-"

"Mr. Stark, you don't have to tell me-"

"No, I want to. 'Sactually kinda funny in a way. Need to tell someone."

"Alrighty then, please continue."

He gave me a rather evil glare. "No need for sarcasm, _Miss Potts_." He was quiet for a moment. "Everything was fine till she asked me if she was the- the prettiest?- no- oh, the most _desirable_ woman alive. Isn't that ri-ridiculous?" he drawled.

I couldn't help but grin. That _was_ a little silly. "And what did you say?" I was genuinely curious.

"Nope," he grinned back. "Told 'er she didn't have red hair."

I almost dropped my cup. "What?"

"What? She didn't have red hair- I like red hair." It seemed as though he knew I was there, but he didn't know at the same time. Why would he say that to me? He wouldn't have said that if he was sober.

"Oh. Too bad," I answered.

We spent most of the night snacking on random things and telling stupid jokes. Despite what happened, we felt relatively comfortable, or maybe _because_ of what had happened. In a strange way, I think it caused him to trust me more than he already did. And I erased the image of him sprawled out on the bed as best as I could. But I have to admit that I still laugh over that one.

Something left me feeling uncomfortable though. What he'd said about red hair sounded trivial, but it stuck to me. No matter what I did, it was still there. I considered the women I had been escorting out for the past year, and I realized that none of them had red hair. Why, if he had such a liking for it? And the more I thought about these women, the more firm I became in my desire to never become one of them. Even if I did occasionally consider it.

**I figured it was time for her to have a rant about something, and "taking out the trash" seemed like a logical thing to get annoyed over. Did you like it? (hmm?) Anyway, please review. It makes me happy. :-)**


	4. One of the Guys

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! This is sort of a transitional chapter- I needed it to really continue the story. Hope you all enjoy!

One of the Guys

Before I met Rhodey, Mr. Stark warned me that his bff was a horndog. From the way he spoke of him, I assumed that James Rhodes was a complete pig, a womanizer, and an idiot. When we first met, I didn't even want to shake hands with him: I thought I'd get an STD just from touching him. I soon discovered my boss was an exaggerating ass. Rhodey was one of the kindest, most loyal and polite people I had ever been lucky enough to meet. As soon as I realized the prank Stark had played on me, Rhodey and I got along great. He treated me kindly, and he respected the progress I'd made with my boss. In a way, I didn't understand how they could be friends- they were almost polar opposites. Very rarely did Mr. Stark show the virtues that were so common in his friend.

Rhodey and I became friends quickly. We trusted each other. We cared for each other- at some point, we considered dating since we were so compatible, but the idea was quickly abandoned. We made the right choice. Friendship was our destiny. It was comfortable, and he was a convenient guy to call if Mr. Stark got out of control- which was pretty often.

I met Happy my first day. He had a perpetual "sad sack" expression, and despite his burly size, he was rather shy. I liked him instantly. Mr. Stark put a great deal of trust and responsibility on him. Until I came along, Happy was his go to guy for hangover assistance. Once, Happy told me that he found Mr. Stark- well, "Tony"- stone drunk, face in a bowl of spaghetti. I thought it was hilarious- he would've drowned in pasta if Happy hadn't happened upon him. What a fate for a billionaire genius.

There was a great deal of loyalty between the two of them, and despite Happy's disapproval for his boss' lifestyle, he was incredibly devoted. Happy had worked for Mr. Stark so long, he called him Tony most of the time. I never called him that. He was always "Mr. Stark" to me- hell, I'd just gotten out of calling him "sir." He got all bitchy about it one day. Anyway-

As to their back story- from what I understand- they were at the same restaurant, and Mr. Stark, being his delightful self, was hitting on a bodacious blonde. The woman's husband was standing next to her the entire time. Not his brightest move. Said husband also happened to be a football star- big, muscular guy. Mr. Stark- in spite of his ego's proportions, is not very tall. In fact, he's maybe two inches taller than me when I'm not wearing heels, and that's being generous. When Tony tried to grab the woman's ass, Happy stepped in and saved _his _ass. Happy, of course, was a waiter- and getting in a brawl at work got him canned. It didn't matter though- Mr. Stark hired him instantly as his personal bodyguard- his _only_ bodyguard. Happy was once a boxer, and the new job was perfect for him. He began to chauffeur Mr. Stark as well, and the two became buddies.

I never knew if my boss hired him because of his impressive brawn, or if he felt guilt over causing Happy to be fired.

I was terrified of Mr. Stane at first. He was the _real _power behind Stark Industries, and he was like a father to my boss. If Mr. Stane didn't like me, I probably would've been fired, no matter how fond Stark was of me. Obadiah Stane's opinion was the most important one in the world to my boss. If I was going to become a permanent and successful addition to Mr. Stark's life, I needed to win over his guardian. With his height, bald head, and shrewd business sense, he was kinda scary. Yes, I'm a coward. The first time Mr. Stark introduced us however, Mr. Stane insisted that I call him "Obadiah." He had a voice that dripped "trust me" and a kind heart. He would actually take the time to _really _listen to you, and then help you out to the best of his ability. I trusted him implicitly. He never did anything to put that faith into question.

As time passed, I saw that Mr. Stark thought of me as part of him. I know it sounds bizarre, but it was as if I was an extension of his own body. He felt no shame, no need to hide anything from me.

"Tony, you're a dick," Rhodey said out of the blue. I had just come into the room, and was typing away on my blackberry. I tried not to blush.

"What? What on earth could possibly have caused you to say that about me?" he responded, feigning hurt.

"You know, I shouldn't even have to explain myself."

"Well, you're gonna have to cause I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Son of a bitch," Rhodey laughed. "That girl at that last press conference- the cute reporter with auburn hair-?"

Mr. Stark sat up. "Did you seriously just say 'auburn' hair?"

"Well, yeah, that's what she had-"

"No, she had _brown_ hair. Do you secretly write poetry?"

"Shut the hell up- you _knew_ I was interested in her, and then you slept with her," Rhodey said. Did they not notice me or what?

"Well, I didn't technically sleep with her- she just randomly jumped me-"

"What the f-"

"Serious dude. I'm that irresistible."

Rhodey's mouth gaped. "When did-"

"Right after the last press conference," the boss man added nonchalantly.

"So, you did her up against a wall right after I said I was interested in her." Rhodey was pissed.

"Umm. When you put it that way, it sounds so guttural, don't you think? Besides, I'm easily taken advantage of. When a woman shows interest, I believe it's a crime to hold back and crush her dreams-"

"You conceited little prick," Rhodey added, though not meanly.

"That's so _not _what she said." They both laughed. "You can still have her- you know, sharing is caring."

"Nah dude. Don't want anything you've contaminated."

"Fine platypus. Be that way."

"I will be that way. And I still think you're a dick."

"Speaking of di-" I never heard the rest of the sentence, because I rushed out of the room. I had never been comfortable around guys in their "guy time." Hearing two men who were close to me talk like that made me feel strange. I figured they hadn't seen me come in, so if they saw that I overheard their conversation, they'd be pissed. I tried to sneak out, but Mr. Stark heard me.

I scurried into the hallway, and stood under a large painting, hoping to become invisible. I heard voices- Rhodey was asking what the matter was- and then I heard footsteps. Shit. They must've not known that I was there. Shit. Shit. Shit. I was panicking. I stood stock still, like a bunny does when frightened.

It was Mr. Stark. He looked preoccupied.

"Pepper- are you-"

"Mr. Stark, I'm so sorry, I should've announced myself or- or-"

"Pepper, calm-"

"Oh my God! I never meant to listen, it's just you talk so loud-"

"Pepper."

"-and I thought you knew that I was there-"

"Pepper."

"-and I didn't know- oh- I'm _so_ sorry-"

"Pepper."

"-it won't happen again-" Dammit. He'd been trying to say something. "Yes?" I asked timidly. He smiled.

"Pepper, I knew you were there," he said. His voice was so soft and comforting.

"Really?" I asked. I had panicked almost to the point of tears.

"It's okay- you didn't do anything wrong. You never do anything wrong." He put his hands on my shoulders. The warmth seeped through my shirt and burned my skin. "I should be the one to apologize."

"What?" I whispered.

"If I had known that would offend you, trust me, I wouldn't have talked like that in front of you."

I looked down, trying to hide my face from his sight. His hand went under my chin and gently lifted. He forced me to look at him. His eyes were so big and brown and-

Shit.

"You don't have to apologize," I murmured, "I guess I just overreacted."

"No, it's just- please, don't take this the wrong way, but we all think of you as one of us- one of the guys. It's like, we can talk to you about anything-"

"It's okay, you don't have to-"

"I mean, you definitely don't _look_ like a guy," he said, leering just enough to get a smile out of me. "We've just adopted you- we all have." He smiled.

"Umm," I mumbled. What was I supposed to say to that?

"It's okay, Pepper, really. C'mon- let's go back to the living room. Rhodey and I will be sure to talk like civilized men-"

"Rather than Neanderthals?" I asked. I couldn't help but smile.

He returned the grin, looking rather like the Cheshire cat. "But of course, especially when a fair maiden such as yourself is in our presence. We are but fool mortal men, have mercy on our idiocy-"

"Mr. Stark-" I giggled. He was talking like one of those hammy Shakespearean actors.

"Pep- you're one of us, I don't want you to feel like your unwanted," he added, suddenly becoming serious.

I was stunned. "I never feel unwanted." Which was the truth. I knew that I was wanted- needed, even. "And I wasn't offended, just embarrassed."

"Really? So we can be Neanderthals if we want?"

"Of course. I don't want you to pretend to be something that you're not."

"Well, you are one of us, so I guess that makes you a caveman too," he added evilly before running into the living room, laughing the whole way.

I ran after him.

We had a good evening. I was even introduced to their favorite beer- it tasted like crap but it was a sort of initiation ritual. I was officially one of them now.

I always had been, and I didn't know it until it was pointed out to me.

Right after Rhodey left, Mr. Stark asked me if I'd enjoyed myself that night. I told him the truth. It had been really fun. He looked pleased, and said that I should join in whenever I wanted, and then added that I had been hiding something from him for the past few months.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You're a smartass. An incredible one at that. I'm almost jealous. I like it." He told me to take the next day off since they'd kept me up so late. He said he'd manage to get by without me, but that it wouldn't be easy. I offered to work, but he insisted that I needed to sleep. He walked me to my car.

As I started the engine, I realized, at that moment, that I was on the brink of falling in love with my boss.

Shit.

**Well, what do ya'll think? Still like it? And yes, it _is _going somewhere. Trust me... Please review! Reviews make me want to write. :-)**


	5. Bad Liar

This ended up being pretty long- the exact opposite of what I had in mind. Well, I hope you all enjoy it anyway! (You better, it took me forever to write. Ha ha.) Once again, I own nothing.

Bad Liar

When I walked into the living room one Monday morning and found a teddy bear in my seat, I knew something was up. The hangover I was battling was making it damned hard to function, and dealing with… whatever caused the bear to appear did not appeal to me in the least. I picked the fuzzy creature up. It had a hard spot in its hand, and when I pressed it, a light appeared in its eyes. The light was bright and flickered maniacally. An incredibly deep voice from within said "I appreciate you." It was the single most demonic thing I'd ever seen. Coupled with my sensitive eyes and pressing headache, I was genuinely freaked out. I was half expecting it to spew fire. Regardless, I carried it with me as I went to the one person it could possibly have come from.

"Ah! Miss Potts- how are you this fine morning?" Mr. Stark asked as I entered his workshop.

"Well enough, thank you Mr. Stark."

He was craning his neck, examining me. "Huh. Bad night?"

"What?"

"You're hungover."

How the hell did he know? Was there a sign on my forehead?

"No, I'm not-"

"Oh yes, you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Wha- _no,_ I'm not," I said firmly. I suck at lying.

"I beg to differ." He coolly walked toward the hotrod and pretended to be busy with it.

"No-" I took a deep breath- "okay, how did you know?"

"Talent. Lots and _lots_ of talent. You wanna see?" he asked. His voice was suggestive, but he was joking. If he'd known what went through my mind, he would've wiped that grin off his face.

"No," I responded quickly. Maybe a little too quickly- my emphasis on the negative may lead him to suspect that I was, in fact, interested in seeing his talent. Not that I am.

"Well, it's fine. I don't care, you don't have to lie to me about it. Happens to me all the time."

"Yes, I know, Mr. Stark."

He smiled. "Hell, if you wanted to get drunk, all you had to do was call me and we could've had a good time. You know, quality time." Again, the suggestive eyes. Dammit.

I smirked. "I don't think it would have been quality."

He laughed. "Pep, you haven't seen me in action-"

"Nor will I." An odd silence followed. He eyed me in a way I was entirely unfamiliar with. I didn't like it. It made me feel warm and unsure. He had never looked at me like that before. His eyes went dark, and his face grew serious. There was something different in the way he held himself, in the way he breathed. It was a strange kind of awareness.

He cleared his throat after a few minutes. "I see you found Mr. Fuzz."

"So this is from you?" I asked, glad for normal conversation. I held the little demon out at arm's length. When he nodded, I asked him what it was for.

He looked surprised, though not unhappy. "Don't you know?" I shook my head. Obviously not, if I was asking. "Two years ago today, I saved you from a fate worse than death."

"What?"

"Unemployment. I hired you. Remember? Go on, smile, be happy! Today is our three year anniversary," he said, opening a can of Dr. Pepper for each of us. "I saw Mr. Fuzz in a window and I thought he was adorable- in a manly way."

I was genuinely shocked. And pleased. He'd remembered our anniversary. Well, it's not _really_ our anniversary, it's just- oh, screw it.

"Mr. Stark, thank you. He's really cute," I said, hoping my lie wouldn't be obvious.

"You are welcome, Miss Potts." He paused; looked at me expectantly.

"What?" I asked. He apparently wanted _something_.

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if, you know, if you were going to give me anything."

Shit. I hoped he wasn't serious. Oddly enough, he could be pretty sensitive. I didn't want to hurt his feelings with my lack of a present.

"Um, oh, Mr. Stark, I- uh- I'm afraid I forgot-"

"You forgot! How could you forgot? I've always heard that women remembered these things better than men," he said. "Serious?"

"Yeah, I'm really sorry- I mean- I _knew _that there was something coming up. I just couldn't remember- I've been so busy-" I lied. My third lie in the past five minutes. This day was not going well- if I kept it up at this rate, Santa wouldn't bring me anything this Christmas.

He walked over to me. "Well, I suppose I'll forgive you, but my feelings are still hurt." Great. I knew he was kidding, but when he got like this, he'd PMS all day until he got what he wanted. I usually just gave in to keep the peace.

Okay, here goes nothing- "Well, what would you like, Mr. Stark?"

His eyes brightened. "Anything?"

Umm… well, what's the worst he could ask for, really?

"Why, of course. Anything that won't force me to sue you for harassment." I quipped, trying to make light of an increasingly awkward situation.

"Pepper, in all honesty, would you sue me? Over anything?"

In all honesty, no. I wouldn't sue him if he grabbed my ass, which surprisingly, he hasn't done yet. Hell, I wouldn't sue him if- if-

But he doesn't need to know that.

"Absolutely. If you did anything untoward and guttural, I suppose it would be my duty. If it affected me in a negative way." Lie number four…

He moved ever closer, his voice lowered. "I don't think it would be negative for either of us." Oh my God. He was playing with me. That damn little bastard. Of all the people in the world I had to deal with on a daily basis, why did I have to go and… become attached to this asshole. Obviously he knew that I found him to be attractive, I mean, who wouldn't? I doubted, no, I _knew _he didn't know that I actually gave a shit about him. He was never going to find out either.

"I-um-" I was completely flustered. "I don't think-"

"Well, you don't have to. Don't worry, I wasn't going to ask for anything crazy anyway," he said, pulling back just enough so that I was able to breathe. "I just want some help with the hotrod."

"What? Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. I need help."

"Can't one of the robots-"

"No, Pep, you're missing the point. I want _your _help. Dummy couldn't get as low as I need it to anyway." When I didn't answer, he added, "consider it my anniversary gift." He had me there.

"Of course, whatever you need," I sighed. He looked deviously gleeful. Apprehension began to well up inside me.

"Alrighty then. You know, it can be pretty messy, and you're the type of woman who'd be pissed if her clothes got ruined-"

"Well, of course I'd be annoyed."

"It's okay! Goodness, I was just going to suggest that you cover yourself up. No need to take offense Potts." What was he up to? He'd been acting weird for the past few minutes, and I didn't like it when he knew something I didn't.

"Fine," I muttered. At least he wanted me to cover up and not strip down. "What should I put on?"

"Umm-" he mumbled, looking around the room. I didn't see anything, and apparently, he didn't either. He thought for a moment; genius seemed to strike him. He- oh my God- pulled his own shirt off and handed it to me. I was so thankful that he had one of those grease stained wife beaters on underneath. I looked at the offered shirt, and froze. "Here, put this on."

"Uh, Mr. Stark-"

"Pepper, it's fine. Just take it." He was so calm and gentle. I knew he was up to something.

I took my jacket off and set it over a chair. I put his shirt on over mine, and set Mr. Fuzz on a table. He walked back to the hotrod, and I followed. I have no idea why he even wanted my help. I know absolutely nothing about cars.

"Okay, I need your help underneath-"

"Mr. Stark. How am I supposed to help you underneath the car?"

He pulled out a couple contraptions from under a table. They looked like seat cushions on wheels. "You lie on this,' he said. He saw my shocked expression. "You okay?"

"Yes, absolutely." I lied for the fifth time. I scrunched down as best as I could- my heels and skirt were a bit of a hindrance. I sat first, then eased back onto the little wheel thing. He put his hand on my stomach, and rolled me under the car. He joined me a few moments later. You would think that being under a car in a tight space with a guy in very good shape who was _really_ close would take up most of my thoughts at that moment. It didn't. Instead, I was focusing on the car, on all the pieces and the intricacies of it. I had no idea what any of it was, and I was trying not to be intimidated by it.

He said nothing at first; the only sound was the clanking of metal as he pulled something out of the car and placed it on the ground. I was just lying there, staring at the underside of the vehicle, trying not to turn my head to the right. I didn't want to see him. As he began to unscrew something- note my exemplary car terminology- his left arm brushed against my shoulder. He mumbled his apologies, but insisted that there wasn't much he could do about it. He adjusted his position just enough so that his elbow was pretty much resting on my abdomen. I held my breath, bit my lip- anything to keep from reacting the way my body wanted to react. My breath was thick in my throat: everything smelled like _warmth_. He had been working for a while already; sweat was beginning to dampen his shirt. And I saw all this with my peripheral vision.

I needed to say something- anything, though preferably not what was filling my mind at the moment. "So, uh, Mr. Fuzz-"

"What about him?" he asked, not taking his eyes off his work.

"Umm… why did you name him that?"

He looked at me strangely. "Well, not to state the obvious Pepper, but he is pretty damn fuzzy."

Right. Of course. Stupid me. And now what should I say?

"You okay Pep?"

"Oh yeah. Fine, great." Lie number six.

"You sure? You're acting weird," he said. _I'm_ acting weird? What about him? I ignored the question. He did too. "So how's it been- for you?"

"How's what been?"

"The past three years."

"It's been interesting."

He laughed. "Are you referring to the time when you caught me with that domina-"

"Actually, I'd forgotten that one, but thank you for reminding me," I giggled.

He feigned shock. "How could you forget that?"

Truth is, I hadn't. I just lied again. I subconsciously touched my nose, making sure it hadn't grown in length. It's impossible to forget seeing your boss being beaten up by some lady in black leather on Halloween.

"Talent," I said.

"Oh, you've got talent too? We could be talented together." He looked at me funny again.

_Awkward_. Change the subject. "So, you think that women remember things better than men?"

"That's what I've always heard. And you proved it wrong by forgetting our anniversary. Every woman is supposed to remember that."

"I guess that makes you the woman in this relationship," I sputtered. At first, I didn't even think that he understood me, I was giggling so hard. He did though.

"What! Are you questioning my manhood? Again?"

"What? When did I ever question that?"

"Umm, wait, so you don't doubt my masculinity?" Shit. He always managed to ruin a perfectly decent conversation.

"Well, I've had my moments…" Number eight.

"Ha."

"Hmm?"

He grinned. "Nothing."

Again silence. I took the time to look at his biceps and wonder how strong he actually was-

"Pepper- whatcha looking at?"

"Oh, uh, nothing." Nine lies already?

"Of course. Hey, you wanna help?"

"Wasn't that why you invited me down here?"

"Well, that was one reason. If you don't want to do this, I can think of plenty of other things for us to do."

If only, huh?

"Um. No. I want to fix the car." Ten.

"Oh, of course, Miss Potts. Just- here-" he said, handing me a wrench- "unscrew that." He pointed to a bolt almost directly above me.

I tried, but my arms grew tired quickly and the bolt seemed stuck. "Mr. Stark- I can't get this."

And then I saw what he was up to- by asking me to do something he _knew_ I wouldn't be able to do, he was going to play the gentleman and do it for me. He looked at me as though he'd been expecting me to admit defeat, and instead of asking me to move, he propped himself up on one arm and leaned _way_ over. He was practically on top of me.

"Don't move," he muttered as he easily loosened the bolt. I wasn't going to. If I did, I was afraid that I would… do things. To him. Once he pulled it out, he placed the piece of metal on the ground and looked down at me. Hard. "Pepper- have you ever thought about-"

"About what?" I asked sharply, hoping to disguise my breathlessness. He brushed a piece of hair out of my face.

"You know. We've known each other for a while, we're friends. I think you're _very _attractive. I just think it makes sense-"

"Mr. Stark, we are _not_ having sex."

"Hey, don't say it like that-" But that's exactly what it was. Tony Stark was not a fan of monogamous relationships. In fact, he had never had one, and I doubt that he ever will. He just wanted sex. I wanted more. We weren't on the same page.

"That is how I'm saying it because that's what it is. No."

"You're not even interested," he said as a statement of fact.

No, yes. Maybe. Shit, yes. I get so exasperated with myself sometimes. "No. No, I'm not, Mr. Stark." And there's my eleventh lie.

"Okay then," he replied. He didn't sound as disappointed as he should have if he believed me. He continued to stare at me and touch my hair before gently rolling off me.

We worked for a few more minutes- well, he worked and I watched. I decided it was best for me to leave.

"Do you need anymore help, Mr. Stark?"

He thought for a moment. "No, I suppose not Miss Potts. I guess I can manage now. Though if you want to stay- nah- maybe it's better for you to go-"

"What do you mean?" I asked as he rolled me out. I stood up just before he did.

"Well, I mean, don't you think you've had enough?" What the hell- could he read my damn mind? No, of course not. He couldn't possibly know.

"Mr. Stark, I honestly have no idea what you are referring to." My twelfth untruth.

"Of course," he said again.

I pulled his shirt off and handed it to him. He didn't put it on.

This was getting to be ridiculous- I just wanted him to mount me. Isn't that awful?

I cleared my throat. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" It was _something_ to say.

"Yes, that will be all, Miss Potts." He was all formality again. As I walked out, he changed his mind. "Actually, one more thing." I turned around. His expression was a mix of jest and seriousness, and something else I couldn't pinpoint.

"And what is that, Mr. Stark?'

He was silent for a moment. "Pep- you're a terrible liar."

**Ha ha. I thought it was time for him to figure out that she is a woman, and not just brains in a suit. Please, please review! I like to know what you think... as long as it's nice. Hee. Anyway, reviews, por favor. :-)**


	6. Venice Part One

Sorry- this took longer than I thought to update. There was quite a bit I wanted to do with this idea, so I'm splitting it between two chapters. I saw Iron Man 2 for the second time today, and there's a scene where Stark is reminding Pepper of a time when they were in Venice. I began to wonder what could have happened...

Venice- Part One

"Pepper!"

I threw down my pen and paper and rushed to the workshop. He'd called me five times already; I just hadn't bothered to respond. I'd been too busy playing CEO.

"Pepper!" he called again via intercom. Bloody impatient. I hurried as fast as my stilettos would allow, and entered his garage just as he called again.

"Pep- oh, there you are. Why didn't you come? Eh, doesn't matter. Anyway- is everything in order? - all the stocks and projections and meetings and crap like that?" Why the hell couldn't he have asked me that over the intercom? God, if he wanted a report, I could've gotten a detailed one.

"Umm… to the best of my knowledge, yes. Everything should be fine."

" 'Should be'…" He was questioning my word choice- perhaps there was something nefarious behind my usage of "should be."

"Mr. Stark?" I asked innocently.

"You said 'should be.' Does that mean that everything really isn't ok, or that you just want to brush me off?"

A little bit of both.

"No, no, everything is fine."

"_Really_."

"Yes."

He opened his mouth to say something sarcastic but thought better of it. Instead, "I just got back from a meeting with Obi- the one you _forced_ me to-"

"I didn't force you, I just threatened you."

"Same difference. Anyway, he said that since my name is on the building, I should take more control." He paused, waiting for me to respond

"Umm… what did you say?"

"I told him that since my name is on the building, that means I get to do whatever I want, which include not taking control."

"Um-"

"He got a little annoyed, to say the least- you know how he can be when he gets all 'corporate.' He claimed that if I wasn't doing my job, then that meant no one was."

Uh oh. Obadiah doesn't get mad very easily- in fact- he's very kind. But the company is _very_ important to him, and he takes his job seriously.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that you are running it for me."

Shit. Not the right answer, Stark.

"Oh my God- Mr. Stark-?"

"Relax Potts. He's not pissed at you, just me. He said you deserve a medal for your efforts."

"Okay, um, you're sure he's not angry with me?"

"No, you're fine. No one ever gets mad at you. How the hell do you do it?" he joked. "People are always getting pissed at me."

"Well…"

"_Pepper_."

"Yes?"

"You're not taking their side, are you?"

"Whose side?"

"The side of everyone who gets angry with me."

"Why, of course not, Mr. Stark." I said, feigning shock. He smiled.

"Good. Anyway, is everything fine? - in the company?"

"Well-"

"Seriously Pepper."

Seriously? Okay, you asked for it.

"Mr. Stark. Your company is doing relatively well, however, the board of directors would _greatly_ appreciate it if you would attend more meetings personally-"

"Rather than just sending you."

"Yes. Also, your latest… adventure hurt the stocks- not _too _much- but it is noticeable. The laboratories are currently a mess- the director just retired and no one suitable has been found to replace him. Also-"

"Okay, I get the idea. Mediocre at best."

"Yes."

"And Obi's mad at me." I could tell it hurt him to have his second father be angry with him. He and his dad were never close, but his parents' deaths greatly affected him. Obadiah was all he had.

"Well, I doubt he's _really _mad at you-"

He chuckled. "Yeah, he is. But not to worry. He'll get over it- but until he does, I'm just gonna hide out and let things smooth over."  
I understood.

"Do you want me to get anything for you if you're gonna be hiding down here?" I asked.

"Down here? Hell no. Since everything is fine with the company-"

"Mediocre."

"Yes, wonderfully mediocre, I want you to cancel all my meetings for the next two weeks."

"What! All of them? I just rescheduled all of them after I canceled them a week ago!"

"Then you can just cancel them again."

"No, Mr. Stark! The board will have you fire me if I keep this up-"

"They can't make me do anything I don't want to. You're fine-"

"What am I supposed to do? Tell them your hiding from Obadiah?"

"Sure. They'll understand."

"Oh God," I mumbled.

"Potts, I need you to remember something. I am the evil super villain; you are my minion who does my devious bidding. You also get a piece of the pie."

What the- I'm an evil minion?

"Ummm. Okay."

"I figured that since Obi's on the warpath, and the board will be pissed with both of us, you're coming with."

"Where? Where are you going?"

"I've always wanted to see Venice."

* * *

I'd always wanted to see Venice also. Mr. Stark told the board that he and his "homies" were taking time off to rejuvenate- for the company's benefit. I arranged everything. And I really mean everything. There is no telling what Mr. Stark would want to do in Venice, and it was up to me to make his life enjoyable.

On the long flight over I worked nonstop. Happy kept the pilot company; Mr. Stark intermittently slept and ogled the flight attendants. I always hated taking his jet. It was awkward- these woman looked and moved like strippers, and I knew about the collapsible pole. He never used it though when I was with him. At least he had the sense to refrain from that. By the time we landed, he was drunk. A couple paparazzos snapped some photos- gee, Tony Stark- drunk. Big news. We got him into the waiting car, and Happy drove us to the hotel.

One thing my boss is not is cheap. Happy and I each got our own suites in the same hotel as him. Our rooms were all in a row, for convenience. Mr. Stark told me to keep him updated on the company's movements, but I knew it was meant to placate me, not to keep him informed.

Mr. Stark left Happy and I to our own devices much of the time. He spent most of _his_ time enjoying the company of the local beauties. Happy and I were quite satisfied to take quiet drives, tour the museums, and take in the ancient radiance of the place. We thoroughly enjoyed each other's company.

One night, Happy and I were on the way back to the hotel after a day of sightseeing, when we heard a commotion coming from the recreation area. Out of sheer curiosity, we walked back to see what the hell was causing all the ruckus; we were greeted by the sight of our boss making an ass of himself. And this time, he wasn't drunk. He and a group of about ten bodacious babes were playing volleyball in the swimming pool. There was a large crowd gathered round to watch the game, and a few photographers mingled as well. Pictures of him drunk were one thing, but photos of him playing around with a harem were a different story- Obadiah would blow every capillary in his body. Mr. Stark had told quite a whopper about what our business in Venice was. If any pictures of him were published, it would mean bad news for all of us. I told Happy to get hotel management out here and close off the area.

I walked toward the pool carefully- my heels, though a moderate four inches, did not balance well on slippery cement. Water was splashing everywhere.

"Mr. Stark!" I called from a relatively safe distance. He didn't hear; he was too busy holding a fake blonde up high enough so that she could spike the ball. I moved closer to the water's edge. "Mr. Stark!" I called again. This time, he looked up. He unceremoniously dropped the girl.

"Pepper! You wanna join?" he asked. He was dead serious. I almost laughed at him.

"Um. _No_," I answered. No way in hell.

"Why not?" he asked- the puppy dog eyes coming out in full force. Cute, but still no.

"No."

"Fine. Be that way." But he was smiling, a decidedly evil smile. What was he up to?-

Next thing I knew, he's grabbed my legs and pulled me into the water. Thank God I was wearing pants and a black shirt. I was so unbelievably pissed- I thought I could kill him. I tried to wriggle free, but he was still holding me.

"Mr. Stark! Let me go!" I cried, looking down at him.

"Oh, come on! I need someone tall on my team!"

"No, you don't! Let me go!"

"Pep- calm down! It's okay, you're just wet," he said.

Men don't seem to realize that by being calm when we are frantic, they just enrage us. Plus, I heard a paparazzo exclaim, "Hey- ain't that his secretary? Ah!" and away they went. They were trigger happy, apparently- and now they had a story: "Tony Stark and Secretary Virginia Potts have Steamy Affair in Venice." Steamy my ass. And I am not- nor will I ever be- a secretary.

"Mr. Stark- for the love of God- if you don't let me-"

"What the hell are you so mad about?"

"Shit!- if you don't put me down right now I will rip off your goddamn penis and feed it down your throat!" I screeched. To make matters worse, he laughed. I did not appreciate him laughing into my tummy.

"Oh my God, I don't think I've ever heard you swear before. And no, I won't put you down. You'll get all wet." I was already wet, smartass, but thanks for being so considerate.

"They are taking pictures!-"

"I don't give a shit if they take pictures, Pepper, calm down!"

Okay- deep breath. In, out, in, out. Screw it; it's not working. Where is Happy!

"Tony Stark- let me go!"

"Why are you- wait, what did you just call me?" he asked. He sounded… confused.

Oops. I totally had not meant to do that.

"Uh. Nothing," I said. He looked at me funny, and waded to the side, where he set me down. I sat there, exhausted and just a little bit bewildered. My feet dangled in the water.

"No, seriously. What did you call me?"

"Uh, your name."

"Ha ha. You called me 'Tony.' You never call me by my first name."

"No, I do not, Mr. Stark," I answered, returning to formality.

He tilted his head, like a bird does when it gets curious.

"How come?"

"Because it's not professional."

"What does that have to do with it? Aren't we friends?"

_Were _we friends? I honestly didn't know, but I didn't want to offend him.

"I- uh- I suppose so-"

"Well, you've know me longer than Rhodey and Happy and Obadiah and you call them by their first names." Wow. He was hurt.

"Technically Mr. Stark, I call Rhodey by his last name-"

"Same difference. It's a friendly nickname. Why don't you do that with me?"

"Because you're my boss," I whispered. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. I didn't know I'd been hurting his delicate feelings this whole time by addressing him properly. How was I supposed to know? Anyway, he looked at me once more, then waded sulkily back to the game- and his puzzled teammates. Right then, Happy returned with the manager.

"Sorry I took so long. Couldn't find him anywhere," Happy explained. "Why are you all wet?"

"Oh, nothing. Let's just get everyone out of here. Then Mr. Sta- Tony- can have his game in private. Happy looked at me strangely. "What?"

"Oh nothing. I've just never heard you call the boss that before. You know, that's been buggin' him for a while."

I guess everyone knew but me.

**Did you enjoy? Please review! It makes me happy- not that I'm depressed or anything. I just like reviews. :-)**


	7. Venice Part Two

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Umm... yeah. That's all. Oh, and once again, I own nothing. Well, the words are mine. Kinda.

Venice Part Two

I saw little of _Tony_ over the next week. He was sulking, and I was too busy enjoying myself to care. Outwardly, he appeared to be fine- I saw him juggle a dozen girls at once, yet I knew he was upset with me. He had been ignoring me like never before.

That is to say, he wouldn't disregard me if I spoke to him- I didn't speak to him at all. We had very separate lives over that vacation. And I was loving every minute of it. Being Tony Stark's PA is not an easy job- in fact, it's bloody stressful. I'd forgotten over the past few years how to live like a normal human being. I even put down my blackberry and pretended not to hear my phone when it rang.

After about a week, Happy and I met for breakfast at a little café we'd found the previous evening during our wandering. His company had become the most important to me- he was the kind of friend everyone should have. He was quiet, serious, and he listened well. A girl likes to be listened to. We ordered our coffee and waited for the meal.

"Pepper- you like it here?" he asked out of the blue.

"Yes. I really do. It's so- it's so- ah, never mind."

"No. No it's okay. What it is?" Happy said.

"Oh, no. It's silly-"

"Nothing you say is silly-"

"Mr. Stark- forgive me- _Tony_ thinks it can be-"

"Alright. _I_ don't think it's silly. C'mon- anything." His eyes prompted me to continue. He really was such a good friend.

"Okay. Fine. But don't you dare laugh-"

He chuckled. "I promise I won't."

I took a deep breath. It _was_ silly. "It's so… romantic. Don't you laugh Happy!"

"I'm not! Look at me- do I look like I think it's funny?" He was absolutely serious. And he didn't look like he thought it was funny.

"Okay." I was embarrassed.

"It really is… romantic. In a way. The lights, the water-"

"-the music," I added.

"Yeah. How about those guys who serenade you on those little boats."

"Gondolas," I laughed.

"Yeah- gondolas. Say- you wanna go on one?"  
That took me by surprise. I have to admit that the little romantic girl inside me had always wanted to go on one and be serenaded- but I wanted to be with my true love- like The Princess Bride. No offense to Happy, but he was a friend. A good friend. He was not, nor would he ever be, the "man of my dreams." God, how cliché. I can't believe I just said that.

"Umm… Thanks Happy, but no thanks," I said as kindly as possible. I knew that behind that burly exterior was a rather sensitive man. I didn't want to offend. I think I failed.

"Oh. No problem. I didn't really want to go on one, you know. Just curious. That's all."

I felt like shit.

"Yeah. I uh. Um," I faltered. We settled into a rather uncomfortable silence. Why was I feeling so odd around him today? What happened? Why was he making me feel so ill at ease?

I pretended to watch a street performer, and he pretended to be busy stirring his coffee. I was missing something.

I leaned forward. "Happy- are you alright?"

He took another minute before responding, without looking up. "Yeah, yeah. Nothing for you to worry about Pepper. Never been better."

"Happy," I pleaded. What the hell was going on?

"Pepper- it's fine. I'll be okay-"

"It's not okay Happy. It's alright- you can tell me." When he didn't say anything, I added, "Is it about the gondolas? Do you really want to go on one?"

He was quiet for another moment. "No. It's not the gondolas. I only mentioned it cause-" he stopped.

"Because…"

"Because I thought _you'd_ like to."

Holy pile of shit. _Please don't let it be what I think it is…_

"Happy, I-"

"Pepper, seriously. It's fine. I'll be fine."

"Happy, if you want to talk, then let's talk."

He didn't look convinced, but I gave him my best psychologist gaze and he assented.

"Alright, Pepper…"

"Yes?" I asked.

"I- never mind."

"No! Happy- it's fine! You didn't laugh at me, I won't laugh at you. I promise."

He took a deep breath- "Have you ever, you know, thought about being more than- uh- friends?" Oh God. No Happy. No I hadn't.

"Happy- I- I- I don't, I mean, I've never thought about- oh God-" I stammered. What could I possibly have said? There was nothing to say.

His face was pale and nervous. I could tell he was disappointed. "Ah, Pepper- it's fine. Don't worry about it." But I was worried. And now I'd feel damned awkward around him.

"Happy- I'm _so _sorry-"

"Nah, it's fine," he said, sucking at nonchalance. "I'd better get going. Tony wanted me to drive him around today. I'll just pay and- yeah."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you'd better," I whispered. He left me there before our food had even come. I wasn't hungry anymore. I put my scarf on, wrapping it around my obnoxious red hair, and wandered aimlessly for the next couple of hours, thinking deep thoughts. How could I have been so dense? Looking back at the past day, week, year even, I could see that Happy had been in love with me. I couldn't understand why. And what made it worse, for the life of me, I couldn't understand why _I_ didn't love_ him_. He was so kind and gentle and caring- yet I didn't care about him, at least the way he wanted me to. I felt terrible that I'd just disappointed a good man- there are so few of them. I didn't feel I could ever face him again. But I knew I would have to eventually. Probably sooner than later.

I didn't enjoy anything I saw that day. Everything that had been beautiful previously was now dull and lustrous. My balloon had been popped. The blue sky turned to grey, and rain followed shortly. The slow drizzle became a downpour, and I ran to the hotel. I was soaked by the time I arrived. I was eyed suspiciously by the doorman- I'm sure I looked like I was a homeless mess, but I didn't care. I wobbled up the stairs in my new, expensive, uncomfortable, and now ruined wet heels- I didn't deserve the elevator. I felt like absolute shit.

I fumbled through my purse for my key, dropping everything onto the floor in the process. As I knelt to pick it all up, I heard someone walking down the luxuriously carpeted corridor and stop behind me. I looked up. It was Mr. Sta- Tony. I'd have to get used to that. And now I'd hurt two people's feelings. I was on a roll.

"What?" I asked almost rudely.

"Oh nothing. Just wondering if you want some help. Your ankles look like they're going to snap." Asshole. He really, really was.

"Well, thanks _Tony_ but I can get it myself."

"No need to bitch about it. I was just trying to help." To my surprise, he got down and helped me anyway. We stood up together.

"Thank you," I said, but my words were hollow. I wasn't feeling anything right now.

"You're welcome. _Pepper_."

"What's with the emphasis on my name?"

"Well, that's how you said my name." God, he could be so childish.

"I said it like that to point out that I was now referring to you as _Tony_- unless you'd prefer for me to revert back to custom." I felt like being a bitch. He didn't really deserve my wrath, but he deserved it more than anyone else. I just wasn't sure why.

"No, no. That's perfectly fine. _Pepper_. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm trying to."

"And failing?"

"To a certain degree."

"Well, that sucks," he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. It looked so soft- probably from using hundred dollar shampoo and conditioner. Men.

"Indeed, it does, Mr. Stark."

"Why 'Mr. Stark'? Did I do something wrong?- _again_?" he asked meaningfully.

"No. I simply felt that 'Mr. Stark' fit that sentence better than 'Tony.' Is that alright with you?"

My sharpness startled him. "Absolutely, Miss Potts. Whatever you feel the situation requires."

Quiet.

"Well, now I' gonna go to bed."

"Why?"

"Because I'm exhausted and wet and tired and just sick of everybody and their goddamn stupidity!" I was out of breath after that.

"Pepper- are you okay?"

I almost laughed. "Perfectly fine, Mr. Stark."

"No, you're not. What's wrong?" He waited for me to respond. I didn't. "Does this have anything to do with Happy?" he added.

"What? No."

He put his hand on my shoulder. It was so warm. "He looked kinda distracted when he was driving me around- I figured he must've talked to you."

"Wha- you _knew_?"

"Yeah. I may not be a relationship guy myself, but I know one when I see him."

"I feel awful-" I gushed.

"No, no. You're fine. It's better to say no than to say yes and pretend you give a shit about him."

"But I do-"

"Just not like that?"

I sighed. "No. Not like that."

"Then you did the right thing- and because it's you, I know you tried to be kind about it."

"I did, but it didn't help."

"Course it did. It'll be fine."

I felt peculiar standing so close to him- a little woozy even.

I chuckled, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "I guess you're not mad at me anymore?"

"You kidding? Of course not. Got over that ages ago. I'm not a grudge holding little girl." He smiled.

"Glad to hear it."

"What? That I'm not mad at you or that I'm not a girl?"

"Both, actually. I'd be in for one hell of a shock if you turned out to be a girl."

"No, you wouldn't. You've seen proof to the contrary."  
"Oh my God! What is wrong with you?" I shrieked, attempting to slap him, but he'd already moved away, laughing.

"Well, you have. More than once."

"Yes. I am aware of that. Please don't mention it again." But my anger subsided, and I began to laugh too. Maybe everything _would _be okay. Maybe.

A couple girls stood at the end of the hallway and called Mr. Stark. Tony. He looked at them, then at me. I knew what he'd choose, and I wanted him to.

"Well, Pep- I guess I've kept you from sleeping long enough-"

I giggled. So did he.

"I- actually- I didn't mean it like that. For once. Get some sleep. You look tired." As he walked away, he added, "Don't worry about Happy. He'll be fine."

I heard the girls shriek with laughter as I went into my room.

I set the keys onto the bedside table. The bathtub was huge and I needed to relax. I filled it up, got some bubble bath. Got in. The warm water loosened the knots in my neck and it relaxed my aching brain. I could actually think.

I did feel bad about Happy, though not as bad as I had earlier. Tony had been right- I did the right thing. It would have been wrong to lie to him because he was such a good guy. He deserved someone who actually loved him the way he ought to be loved. And that woman was not me. At this moment, I didn't understand myself. I couldn't love a great guy like Happy, but I was in love with his ass of a boss. Weird, huh?

**Ta da! Ha. Anyway- did you enjoy? I love it when people enjoy what I write, and I don't know what you think unless you review! So, needless to say, I would be very happy if you reviewed my little story. _Please._ :-)**


	8. Facial Hair

Thank you for reviewing. It makes me happy, and when I'm happy, I write. *hint, hint* Once again, I own nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch- you get the idea.

Facial Hair

I, I am pleased to say, did not inherit my mother's dark hair. She was constantly waxing her upper lip and eyebrows, leaving her skin sore and dry. I'm a bit of a wuss and couldn't wax if my life depended on it. My dad was a blonde- his hair was almost white. And somehow, the genes mixed to give me "strawberry blonde" hair. Sure, in some ways it's nice- no mustache or obvious stray hairs. Then again, red hair is so… loud. It shouts "look at me!" I don't like to be noticed. I'm quite content to be left alone. But I digress-

As I was saying, facial hair is not something I like to deal with. Hell, I can't stand guys who have a "three day growth" or a beard or something. It's tacky and scratchy when you make out with them. Yes, I know, it's a weird reason.

* * *

The morning started out like every other morning of the past five years. I got everything Tony needed. He'd been sick for the past week- he puked of me too- and he'd pretty much become a vegetable. He hadn't even bothered to shave, which made cleaning the vomit off him even harder. He looked like a caveman, and after spending a week in bed, he smelled like one too.

As I walked in the door, I asked Jarvis how he was.

"Vastly improved, Miss Potts."

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Mr. Stark is currently indisposed," Jarvis answered politely.

Thank God. He was finally cleaning himself up. He was beginning to remind me of a three toed sloth. Pretty soon, he'd be growing mold.

I went about my business.

I heard him before I saw him. He was whistling. He never whistles. Not only that, but he was whistling "Music of the Night" from the Phantom of the Opera. He was up to something. Again.

"Tony- I didn't know you could whistle," I said without looking up. He scurried into the kitchen.

"I have a talented tongue," came the reply. Yeah. He was all better. I didn't have to play nurse anymore.

"You've already told me that."

"Are you saying I can't brag?"

"Brag all you want. Just not to me."

"You wanna see?"

I looked up, horrified, but he was still in the kitchen. Honestly I had not been expecting that. I could hear him rooting through the refrigerator. Probably looking for a popsicle. He loved the rocket shaped ones.

"No, I don't want to see your tongue," I answered.

"You sure?"

"Tony- no."

"How come?" he asked, taking a sniff of something old, presumably. I have spidey-senses. "Oh, shit- what the hell is this?"

"Because tongues are nasty, Tony. I don't like them. And if it's green, then you should probably clean out your fridge."

"You don't li- tongues are nasty?" he rambled; put whatever it was back in the fridge. I rolled my eyes.

"Your mouth is the most germy part of you body. I don't like them."

I could hear his shock. "You don't _like _it?" Oh, good grief. Mind always in the gutter.

"Tony! Tongue- I don't like _tongues_! I wasn't talking about oral sex, and neither should you."

"Oh, so you _do_ like it?"

"I- I am not going to answer that."

"How come?"

"Because you're my boss, and it's private," I said. He was particularly obnoxious today.

"It sure is private."

"Stop it. You are so crude sometimes."

"I try awfully hard."

"You have to try- never mind." I shouldn't say such things to my boss. Especially since I want- I want _more_ than a boss/employee relationship.

"Potts- were you saying something sexual?"

"Nope," I answered primly.

"I think you were."

"Well, you thought wrong."

He gasped for effect. "How did you know what I was thinking? I'm _so _embarrassed-"

"Tony!"

No answer. He just laughed. I heard footsteps. He was finally emerging from the kitchen. He had a gallon of milk in hand that he was drinking from- gross!- and- and- and what the hell?

I shrieked. He almost lost the gulp of milk he'd just taken.

"Hey- Pepper- I'll make this my special carton of milk, and you can have the other one," he said. Obviously, I'd startled him pretty damn well for him to make such a sacrifice.

"Tony! What is on your face?" I was panicked. He'd shaved, alright- shaved the beard into a weird 1950's goatee and mustache.

"Oh, you like it?" he asked, running his hand over it thoughtfully.

"Wha- no!"

He grinned. "How come?"

"Because- because I don't like facial hair."

"You're not the one wearing it. And maybe I do."

"Since when?"

"Since about seven o'clock this morning."

"But- but doesn't it itch? I mean, isn't it uncomfortable?" I begged.

"Uh, not too bad. I'll get used to it."

"Wait- this is permanent?"

"Yup," he said, making the "p" pop for emphasis. "I can confuse the paparazzi now."

"Tony-" I stood up and walked toward him.

"_Pepper_," he mocked. He was clearly enjoying this.

"Tony, how can I take you out in public anymore with a caterpillar on your face?" I asked. Whined even. It was weird looking. It didn't look right on him. He wasn't as attractive- not that I notice or anything. Seriously.

"Pepper, it is your job to go with me everywhere," he paused. I saw the proverbial light bulb go off. "Even the men's room. In fact, I'm not sure why I've never demanded that you follow me in there."

"I'm not sure if you remember, but I have been in the men's room with you before," I added slyly.

"Really? I don't remember that at all."

"Well, you were drunk, and I was holding your head over the toilet."

He looked disappointed. He'd obviously been hoping for something more exciting, even if he couldn't remember.

"Huh. See, I was hoping it'd be something sexy. That's not sexy-"

"No, it wasn't."

"Sorry about that." He looked at me. I looked at him. I'm not sure what he was thinking at that moment, but I was trying to get past his facial hair. I studied his face- he wore his thirty-five years proudly. In some ways, he looked older than he was. Hard living, I suppose. You can't drink and party and have random sex every night and not expect it to catch up with you. Even the great Tony Stark has to slow down eventually. His hair was still dark though, no trace of gray. For a moment, I wondered if he dyed it, but no. He would have me dye it for him. He had lines around his eyes, but they were soft. They only framed his eyes, though not as much as his ridiculously dark and girly eyelashes. His eyes were _big_. And dark. Almost the same color as his hair. He had nice eyes. I don't just mean that they were pretty, I mean they looked kind. Maybe I read too much into things, I don't know. His face was attractive already- I suppose my dislike for the facial hair came from the idea that it was covering him too much. But the more I looked at him, the more my opinion changed. It framed his face, just as his lashes framed his eyes. With it, he looked more distinguished, more mature. I knew he was no different than he was yesterday- maturity can be bluffed, but he looked it nonetheless. He looked handsome. Huh. Maybe I did like it.

I put my hand out and gently ran a finger over his chin- it _was_ scratchy. My index finger tingled. I pulled it back. I looked at him again, and I saw on his face the only thing that made me feel uncomfortable with him: lust. His eyes had grown darker, more serious, deeper.

"You've got freckles on your nose, Pep," he said. His voice was strained and hoarse, like his throat had gone dry. I wanted to touch him so badly, I wanted to just give in to my curiosity, my _need_. But I couldn't- it would ruin everything. Tony would expect things to go back to normal, but they couldn't. I'd have to quit. And I was not willing to go there.

"So do you," I replied. We both took a deep breath, pulled back, and put on our "business as usual" faces.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?"

**What did you think? Good? Bad? Ugly? Hee. Anyway, I wanted to suggest that he's already in love with her, but he's just too stupid and selfish to notice. I think I did ok, but I'm not sure. That's why I like reviews... Thanks.**


	9. Worst Week

Thanks again for all the reviews! I hope I can keep up with expectations… I wanted to write something a little bit different, so here goes nothing-

Worst Week

To start with, Sunday was the eighth anniversary of my mother's death. I go, every year, to her grave and place wildflowers on it. She always loved wildflowers. I stand there for a while, alone- as I have no siblings, and intermittently cry or suffer in silence.

I wish I didn't even remember it- it brings back painful memories of surgeries, medications, and chemotherapy. She died after a three year battle with cancer. Not only does it remind me of the parent I lost, but it also leaves me worried. I don't want to sound selfish, but I hope breast cancer does not run in the family.

I always manage to leave work early in order to fulfill my ritual. Over the past six or so years, Tony has never noticed that I leave early on the same exact day. He doesn't know my mother is dead, or that my father left us. He doesn't even know I had parents in the first place. He probably thinks I was dropped by a stork down the chimney as an early Christmas present.

This time, when I saw the clock hit four in the afternoon, I decided that it was time to go. The work was finished, and Tony could live without a babysitter for a day. I walked downstairs to his workshop, pressed in my code, and went in. He was busy drilling a huge hole in the wall. Don't ask why, I never found out the reason.

"Tony!" I shouted over the dust and mayhem. No answer. "Tony!" I called louder.

He took his goggles off, wiped his forehead. "Yeah?"

"I'd like to leave early. If you don't mind," I answered, taking a couple steps toward him. I expected an immediate "yes" as I'd gotten one every year previous, but this time, I saw telltale signs of negativity.

His face grew harder. "What for? You going someplace?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

He looked down at the drill in his hand. "By yourself?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

He still didn't look up. "Huh. Sounds boring. Sure, I guess."

As I began to walk away, he added, "Are you just going by yourself, but you're meeting someone there?"

"No," I said, turning around, "it's just me. Is that alright?" The more he pried, the more the tears I held back began to sting. I wish he'd just shut up and let me leave, so I could bawl in the car.

He looked up. "Oh yeah. That's fine." Silence. "You sure you aren't going with someone or, you know, do you want someone to go with you?"

Shut the hell up already.

"Nope. No, no thank you, Mr. Stark, but I'm perfectly fine on my own."

"Oh. Well, don't do anything exciting without me."

What would normally have made me laugh was not funny today.

I sighed. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts."

I hightailed it out of there, cried in my car for about ten minutes, then drove to the cemetery for my yearly date. And as sick as it is, it also happens to be the _only_ date of any kind I've had this year.

**

* * *

**

On Monday, I woke feeling puffy and stuffed up, owed to my extending crying the previous day. I also discovered it to be 8:30. I'm supposed to be at work by seven. Holy shit. I have _never _overslept before. I don't even have to set the alarm on my clock- I'm just one of those sick people who likes waking up ridiculously early. I had a two minute shower, threw myself together, and rushed to my boss' house. I nearly broke an ankle running to the door- and I _did _snap the heel off my left shoe.

When Jarvis opened the door for me, I was greeted by the sight of my boss, Rhodey, and _thirteen_ scantily clad females in a drunken stupor on the floor. And when I say scantily clad, I'm being generous. Some of them weren't clad at all. To say that I was royally pissed was an understatement. Here Tony is, telling me not to have fun without him, and then he goes and picks up as many women as he can find. And I don't know what the hell Rhodey was doing there. At least he was wearing clothes.

I stepped over the sleeping beauties, and tapped my boss on the shoulder with my shoe. I was tempted to jab the four inch heel into his chest. He stirred, hiccupped, and rolled over.

"Oh no you don't," I whispered. Wait- why the hell was I whispering? This was my house, at least, it seemed that way, I was here so much, and I was not in the mood to deal with this diplomatically. I nudged him again. You might even say I kicked him.

"Tony! Goddammit, wake up!" I yelled.

His eyes flew open in a panic. "Whoa- what the hell!-" he gasped. He looked up at me, rubbed his back, and said, "Pepper? What the hell?" His inebriated mind couldn't grasp the situation. He stood up- with my help- and put his hands on his head. "Did you already send them home?"

Apparently, he hadn't noticed the piggy pile going on behind him. Hell, I rushed to get here, and he hadn't even noticed I was late. Hah.

"Mr. Stark-" I said, motioning toward his companions. The look on his face was priceless. He never sticks around- he's a bit of a coward. He has sex and then runs.

"Shit! Pepper-" he said, his voice full of shock.

I felt like being a bitch. "Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"What? What do you mean 'Mr. Stark'? Get them out of here!"

"And what about Rhodey? Do you intend to love him and him leave as you do with these girls?" I asked sarcastically.

For a drunk, he was still pretty sharp.

"Rhodey just came along for the ride. Kick him out too."

"Your wish is my command, Mr. Stark," I said as I made my toward the women.

"Seriously Pep? Cause I sure as hell wish it was."

I chose to ignore his comment. He retreated to the safety of his workshop, while I got rid of his guests. They yelled, argued, and complained, but in the end, I prevailed. Rhodey apologized profusely for his behavior, promising me it would never happen again.

"Rhodey, I don't care if you have random sex, just don't leave me to clean up after you."

"Pepper, I am so sorry. I never shoulda listened to that son of a bitch."

"How come?"

"Cause my week's been shit and he told me to come around and we'd unwind."

"And do you feel _unwound_?"

"Nope. I feel worse than I did yesterday."

So did I.

* * *

Wednesday Happy introduced me to his girlfriend. He'd been dating Jenna for almost a year, but this was the first time I met her. She was perfect: adorable, sweet, soft-spoken. And something inside me hurt. It wasn't jealousy- I'd never been interested in Happy in that way, but at the same time, I did feel a sick sense of envy. I suppose you could say I was jealous of their happiness. They kept giving each other those saccharine sweet puppy love looks, those little touches and caresses. And Happy looked so damn happy that I couldn't help but feel agitated. I had nothing. No one. I'd been engaged twice, and obviously nothing ever came of that. Was I just a bitch?- or did I reek "commitment-phobe?" What was it? Why was I so damn unlovable?

And why was I unable to love anyone who could love me back?

**

* * *

**

On Friday, I found my pet fish Horace belly up in his tank. I know, I know, it's just a frigging fish, but I cried for that thing almost more than I did over my mother's grave. And the crazy thing is, I couldn't stop crying. I cried for an hour I as I got ready. I cried as I drove to Tony's house. I cried as I walked in the door. I even cried as I replied to all of my boss' emails.

Tony was nowhere to be seen, and I thanked God for it. The last thing I need is for Tony to see my cry. Over a fish. I sniffled through an hour of work, still no sign of him. Just as my tears began to subside however, I heard-

"Hey Pepper- you wanna order some takeout?" he asked as he made his way up the stairs. He stopped dead in his tracks once he saw me. "Oh, uh, I'll just-" he mumbled as he began to back away from me. Men never like to be around weeping women. Yet as soon as he started to retreat, my crying began again. Louder this time. I couldn't stop; I tried to control it, but I couldn't. Tony looked between me and the stairs guiltily. I couldn't believe his choice.

He came down and sat beside me, and put his hand on my back.

"Shh… Pepper, it's okay-" he whispered soothingly.

"N-no, it's-s n-not," I blubbered.

"Okay, maybe it's not. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

I knew he didn't really want to know. He was just being polite. Well, maybe he was being a good friend.

"My-my f-fish-" I stuttered, unable to continue.

"Hmm? You're fish?" he asked, totally confused.

"M-my pet," here, I sniffed rather unattractively. "My p-pet died."

"Oh, uh, I'm real sorry Pep." It was kinda endearing, in a weird way. He was so nervous and scared because I was crying. In almost seven years, he'd never seen me cry. I suppose I'm emotionally stunted.

My tears started to slow. "Thanks." I lifted my face to look at him, and he looked terrified. He put his thumb on my cheek, and wiped the tears off my face. I gazed at him rather dumbly. He pulled me close, and gave me a hug.

When he pulled back, he said, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," I said, as I wiped my nose. "I'll be fine. Just been a bad week."

"Yeah. Hey- why don't you take a nap, or go home, or have some ice cream." I'm afraid my face brightened up like a five year old's at the mention of desert. "You want ice cream?"

I nodded.

He rushed to the refrigerator and got out a huge tub of chocolate ice cream that's been in there for God knows how long. He got spoons and two heaping bowlfuls and returned to the couch.

"You wanna watch a movie?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," I said, as I stuffed my face with chocolate deliciousness.

He smiled warmly. "Okay." He put on Toy Story of all things, and I laughed myself silly over it. As I sat there, nestled against him and falling asleep, I thought- maybe this wasn't such a bad week after all.

**So what did you all think? I figure if you've read this much, it's safe to assume that you enjoy my story at least a **_**little**_** bit. Anyway, please review! It makes me happy…**


	10. Age

Sorry this chapter is so short, but it's everything I wanted to say on the matter. But I promise the next chapter will be up in only a day or two, and it will be a LOT longer. Hope you enjoy this little vignette!

Once again, I own nothing.

Age

I first noticed it when Happy abandoned the occasional bout of boxing for teaching Tony his moves instead. It wasn't like our boss needed to learn to defend himself- he just wanted to stay in shape, and that was what drew my attention. He'd never worked hard for his body before- he was just a lucky son of a bitch with a damn fast metabolism. And now, he and Happy worked out together. Everyday. It could only mean one thing.

We were getting old.

I'm not saying that thirty-three is ancient, it's just… not long ago, we'd been so _young_. I was barely twenty-four when Tony hired me- a shy, naïve accountant, and he had been a fresh faced, thirty year old womanizer. Now, I wasn't shocked by anything, and Tony was beginning to look… forty. Which he was, or thereabout. His face was marked by lines- gasp, wrinkles!- as well as by freckles and his carefully trimmed facial hair. He'd even begun to slow down- I only had to remove his female guests maybe five times a month, rather than five times a week.

It was beginning to show on all of us. Happy had given up his former sport altogether. Rhodey had risen steadily through the ranks of the air force, and Obadiah, well, he was bald, with a grey beard, and he was borderline portly.

What had happened to us? Where once was ambition and drive was comfort and complacency. I had always intended to quit after the first year or two I worked for Tony- id always wanted to travel and _do_ things. I wanted to do something crazy, I wanted to experience something different. Yet somehow, time slipped by, and before I knew it, Tony popped open a bottle of champagne in celebration of our ninth anniversary. _Nine_ years? When did that happen? I can hardly remember the last nine days.

But time doesn't only bring wrinkles and decrepitude; it brings comfort and trust. Tony and I had sort of grown into each other- I understood his eccentricities, just as he accepted mine.

When we would sit down together for dinner, or watch a movie, or have pancake eating contests, I came to realize that it was sort of like… I was a pair of shoes he'd worn for a while, and now they were a perfect fit.

**So, I know it was awfully short, but what did you think? Was it good and short or bad and short? My next chapter will be up soon, and it will be a bit different than everything else. I've finally reached the point I wanted to be at. Thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing)!**


	11. Happy Birthday

Goodness! Thank you for reviewing my teeny chapter!

Well, after going through parts of Pepper's life before the movies, I've finally joined up with where we first see her. This is not going to be a novelization of the films however. There is still a lot going on for me to write about…

Enjoy! (Hopefully)

Oh, I own nothing.

Happy Birthday

For my thirty-fourth birthday, Tony gave me the best present of all: a snotty, fake blonde reporter with a bad attitude. She was the first woman I'd had to deal with in a few weeks, and- silly me- I'd begun to hope there wouldn't be anymore. I should've known. Tony is Tony. He likes sex, minus the whole relationship part.

This blonde, as I said, was a bitch. She had the audacity to insult me, while wearing nothing but my boss' shirt.

"You must be the famous Pepper Potts," she quipped after I handed her freshly pressed garments to her.

"Indeed I am." I, at least, would attempt to keep my dignity. Or what was left of it.

"Huh. After all these years, Tony still has you picking up the dry cleaning." Her mouth twisted into an unkind smile.

Um. Okay, _bitch_, if that's how you want to do it… "I do anything and everything that Mr. Stark requires. Including, occasionally, taking out the trash. Will that be all?" I returned the smile. She frowned, stuck her nose up, and sauntered upstairs to dress. I'm surprised she didn't flip me off.

I had plans. It was the first time I'd had plans in a long time. Therefore, I wanted to get Tony off to Afghanistan as soon as possible. My friends Tanya and Ashley were taking me out to "party." The past few years had been pretty dull, and dammit, I wanted to have fun. Do something crazy. Maybe have sex- it had been a while. A _long _while. I turned down Tony's music and began to prattle away as soon as I entered his workshop. He wasn't cooperating.

"What are you trying to get rid of me for? What- you got plans?" he asked. Shit. Was I really that obvious?

"As a matter of fact, I do," I answered primly.

"I don't like it when you have plans." He really didn't. He wasn't jealous of my company in a… romantic way, but he felt that I was _his _property and territory, and no one else could take up my time. It was kinda weird, really. And a little flattering.

I smiled. "I'm allowed to have plans on my birthday." Somehow, he could remember the day he hired me almost ten years ago, yet my birthday was annually forgotten. It didn't hurt, though. I'd gotten use to it. I'd come to accept my boss' thoughtlessness and selfishness; his vices and his few- though redeeming- virtues.

"It's your birthday?- already?"

"Strange- it's the same day as last year."  
"Well, get yourself something nice from me."

"I already did." I'd come to accept that his credit card was as equally mine as it was his, and that he expected he to buy myself expensive things with it.

"And?" he asked, genuinely interested. It was almost sweet: how curious he was over what he'd gotten me.

"Oh, it's very nice, very tasteful. Thank you, Mr. Stark," I replied. I couldn't help but smile. Our flirtation over the years had become second nature, and more friendly than suggestive. He didn't even look at me as a sexual woman anymore. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"You're welcome, Miss Potts." He returned the silly smile, as well as the flirty usage of formality. With that, he strode off, bid me farewell, and was on his way to a weapons demonstration he should've left for two hours ago.

Over the years, I'd come to accept that Tony was Tony. Nothing would change him into the sort of man I'd wish he'd be. I'd come to accept that whatever I'd once felt for him needed to take a backseat- those feelings weren't wanted anymore. They made things too complicated.

**

* * *

**

I was in the middle of eating a slice of incredibly sexual chocolate cake when my cell phone rang. I took it out and looked at the time. It was a little past two in the morning. As my phone continued to ring, I kept staring at that cake. It was _damn _good. I chucked the phone onto the coffee table and continued to stuff my face.

My birthday had actually gone pretty well, and despite the fact I hadn't had sex, I _did _get the number of a really hot guy I'd made a date with for next week.

In a way, it was weird being at my own house. I was so used to Tony's, and-

The phone started ringing again. I tried to ignore it, but it rang again and again. I finally gave in, cursing all the while. Somebody had damn well better died-

"_What_?" I demanded harshly as I flipped open my cell.

"Pepper- oh my God- I'm _so_ sorry-" It was Rhodey. It sounded like he was choking or- or crying? No, Rhodey never cries.

"What?" I asked again, though gently this time. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong, I just knew it.

"Pepper-" he started again. He paused, took a deep breath- "we lost him. We lost Tony."

What should have made me weep did nothing. I felt absolutely nothing.

"Is this a joke?" I asked, sounding rather like a robot.

"Oh God," he muttered. "No Pepper, but I wish it was. We lost him- after the ambush-"

What ambush? What the hell was going on?

"-We got attacked just after the demonstration. Half the convoy was killed- the guys with Tony are all dead-" his voice trailed off.

Tony was dead? When Rhodey said that they _lost _him, does that mean he was… gone?

"-But we'll keep looking for him Pepper. Whether we find him dead or alive, we'll keep looking till we do," he said, his voice hoarse and strained. I could only imagine what he'd gone through that day.

"You promise?" I whispered.

"Yeah. I promise, Pepper." We both hung up. There was nothing more to say.

Tony was missing. Someone had taken him. But why? What were they doing to him?

I didn't want to think about it.

**

* * *

**

The first week, my optimism ran high. I daily expected a phone call from Rhodey, saying that they'd found Tony. He'd just wandered off during the fighting, and he was perfectly fine, though maybe a little sunburned. He was Tony Stark. Of course he was alright. I continued to go to work as though nothing was wrong. I continued to make calls, answer emails, go to meetings, all the while expecting that phone call.

But it never came.

After three weeks, Obadiah came to me and told me that even though things were looking pretty grim, I shouldn't give up hope. They'd find Tony, he assured me. He always was a lucky son of a bitch. By this point, my hope had begun to falter, but Obadiah's encouragement lifted my spirits again. Obi was never wrong- he loved Tony like a son. As long as he hoped for the best, so would I.

**

* * *

**

That's more easily said than done. After two months, all the big magazines started running the story of Tony's death, even though a body hadn't been found. I stopped answering his emails. I sat there, alone, in his house, for hours- thinking about nothing in particular. The entire second month, an unfathomable emptiness lay inside me, and nothing I did could fill it.

**

* * *

**

I pretended that I didn't really care- that Tony was just my boss. It helped me to get through daily life. But the third month was almost unbearable. A tiny ray of hope still lingered inside me, but I didn't hold on to it.

The worst moment came when Obadiah called and told me to join him at a board meeting. I had no idea why, but I obeyed. When I arrived, everyone was wearing black. Mr. Johnson- a rather pompous man- stood up, and said that we needed to move on, and stop wishing for the impossible. Tony Stark was dead. It had been three months. He couldn't survive alone in the desert more than three days, and if he'd been captured, he was dead anyway. I opened my mouth to protest, but Obadiah put his hand on my arm and stopped me. When I looked into his eyes, he shook his head. I almost burst into tears on the spot. Tony was dead. He _had_ to be dead. Obadiah had given up. So I did too.

After the board meeting, I sped away to Tony's house and ran downstairs to his workshop. I could almost believe he was still there- I hadn't touched a thing since he disappeared. I wandered around for a while, eventually falling asleep in a guest bedroom after I cried myself into oblivion.

* * *

A few days later, I was sitting on the floor in Tony's mansion, sorting through boxes of my stuff that had accumulated over the years. It really hurt to finally accept defeat; this job, these people, had been my life for almost ten years. Tony really was all I had, in a pathetic sort of way, and now I didn't even have him. Rhodey and Happy just weren't the same- they weren't what I needed. I needed Tony.

I was annoyed when my phone began to ring- I had been putting this chore off for a while and I didn't want to be interrupted. I was going to ignore it altogether, but something inside me desperately wanted to know who was calling. I gave in to my curiosity. It was- I didn't know who the hell it was.

"Hello?" I asked, my voice oddly low and monotone. Depression, I suppose.

"Hey- Pepper-" a strange voice croaked. It was dry and scratchy- I didn't recognize it at all.

"Hmm? Who is this?" I asked.

"Don't tell me you forgot about me already."

No. No way. It was impossible, it couldn't be him- yet a lump formed in my throat and my heart went berserk.

"I- I- Tony?" I whispered.

"Yeah, Pep?" he asked as if nothing was out of the ordinary, though I could tell from his voice that he was smiling.

"Tony?" I said again, surer this time.

He chuckled dryly. "Yeah, it's me."

I had to stifle a squeal of glee. "Tony! Are you okay? Where have you been?"

He sighed. "To hell." After a moment of thick silence, he began to laugh.

"What? Tony! Oh my God!"

"You been okay?"

"Of course I'm okay! How have _you _been?" I asked.

"Been better," he answered. "I mean, have you been okay without me?"

What was that supposed to mean?

"Of course-" wait, that sounds like I'm glad he was gone- "I mean-"

"Oh, you enjoyed your vacation?"

"No! No, Tony, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I- stop laughing at me!"

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" His voice was so rough and quiet.

"I'm- I- when are you coming home?"

"Couple days-" he stopped when another voice started in the background. "I gotta go. Platypus told me not to call anyone. I'm such a bad boy."

"Alright. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll be home in a couple days, Pepper."

After we hung up, I was tempted to dance around the house, but- but why not? It wasn't like anyone was going to see me. What the hell, right? Live a little.

I don't think I've ever been that relieved in my whole life.

**So what did you think of my take on what happened? Please review and let me know. Remember, reviews make me smile!**


	12. Metamorphosis

Sorry for the delay- I've been working on about ten different stories, so needless to say, I've been very busy.

Metamorphosis

At first, Tony seemed fine. In the car ride home from the military base, I could see telltale signs of violence: his arm was in a sling, there were cuts on his face, and I even noticed his bruised knuckles. It didn't seem like much though- sure, he was tired and he looked a little weak, but he was fine. He was home. Everything would go back to the way it was.

Except, somehow, Tony was different. First, he demanded a cheeseburger of all things, and then, he nearly caused me to have a heart attack- he wanted a press conference._ A press conference._ He never went to press conferences, let alone ask for one. It was weird, and it kinda worried me a little. What had happened to him while he was away? Why was he- no, it was nothing. I was overreacting. He probably wanted a press conference so he could announce to the world that he was fine, alive, and better than ever. He'd be back to normal as soon as his arm healed up, whatever had happened to it.

As Happy passed the cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshake back, Tony kept looking at me funny. You know how pigeons look at you like you've got three eyes? That's what he was doing- like he was examining me.

"What?" I asked, slightly annoyed at his scrutiny.

"Nothing. You want a burger?"

"Ugh. No. Do you have any idea how unhealthy those things are?"

"Sure don't," he said as he stuffed his haggard face.

"You know- they clean the meat in ammonia and- and-" he'd already finished his first burger and moved on to his second one- "God, Tony, if you keep it up like that, you'll die of a heart attack."

He stopped momentarily. Did I say something wrong? "Huh. You know, not too concerned about that now. Could die of a heart attack at any moment."

"Tony, it's _very_ unlikely that you would just have a random heart attack-"

"It's not random," he interjected. The way he said it, the way he _looked_ at me as he said it made my blood run cold.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

"Nothing," he said, wiping his mouth. The napkin was discarded in the cup holder. I couldn't help but smirk. Some things never change, huh?

We drove on in silence, the only sound was Tony slurping on his vanilla shake. The noise was bloody obnoxious, and I was trying to sort out everything for his public reveal. I gave him my best evil glare.

"Oh, sorry, forgot to ask- did you want one?" He misunderstood entirely.

I sighed. "No. I don't."

"You want some of mine?"

I almost dropped my blackberry. I almost shouted- hell no! Germs! Cooties! Whatever the hell else he might have. I was about to decline, but there was something in his eyes that held me back. He looked tired, or hurt- but it was more than that. Something was bothering him, and he wanted a sign of friendship. He wanted to feel that I was there for him, like I always had been in the past. It made me feel incredibly guilty for questioning his bacterial level, and so I took a sip of the proffered milkshake. It tasted pretty good.

"That all you want? I don't care if you want more," he said. He took out the French fries and began devouring them. I stole one. I couldn't help it. I hadn't had fries in so long, and they looked so damn fresh and yummy-

Tony grinned. "I thought you said this stuff was unhealthy."

I swallowed the golden deliciousness. "One fry won't hurt me."

"Yeah. Yeah, it won't hurt you." He looked out the window, his face becoming downcast and stern. He was worrying me- whatever the hell he was doing needed to stop.

I leaned toward him. "Tony, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Don't you lie to me. Something's bothering you. Are you hurt? Should we go to the hospital-"

"They can't fix this."

This. What is _this_? "Can't fix what?" I asked, apprehension welling up inside me.

He put his hand over his heart. "When we were attacked- by the way, don't tell anyone this- I got his by some shrapnel-"

"Oh my God!- are you okay?"

"I'm getting to that- it's lodged in my chest- in my heart basically. If it moves, I'll die." He looked directly into my eyes, as if it was no big deal. Yet I knew that his blood flow would carry the metal into his heart. Why wasn't he dead yet? Oh God…

"Then- how- what-?" I sputtered. I felt like crying. He was going to die anyway.

"There was a guy there- he, uh, he cut me open and took out what he could find, but there's still a bit inside me."

It just came out- "Then how are you alive?" The million dollar question, it seems.

"God, I don't- this guy put a magnet inside me- it pretty much keeps the shrapnel suspended in place. It's still there, but it's not moving."

"What if something happens to the magnet?" I had no idea how such a thing would work, but then again, I'm not a genius like Tony Stark- or this other guy, apparently.

He shrugged, looked down at his hands. "Then I die." He paused, looked out the window, then turned back to me. "See? No big deal."

* * *

I couldn't believe it. Tony dissolved his company, or at least shut down the weapons division of his weapons company. It made no sense. Why the hell would he do that? Was he suffering from post-traumatic stress? I don't think his "adventure" could've been that bad, but then again, I had no idea what happened. He didn't talk about it. For the next several days, I saw little of him, if I saw him at all.

After he'd been home for a week, I decided it was time to bring back the paperwork. He'd had a nice rest. We needed to get things back on track. Problem is, I couldn't find him. I went through the whole house, finally going to his bathroom, and sure enough, he was there- standing in front of the mirror, wearing his wife beater and jeans. He was looking at his arm, and I was looking at the frigging light coming from his chest. New night light?

"Tony- are you okay?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah." He didn't hear a word I said. He tore his eyes off his shoulder and looked at me. "Hey- Pepper, could you do me a favor?"

No. Hire someone else to do it.

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

"Uh. Can you- come here?" Wow. He actually asked instead of just… telling me to. What was wrong with him?

I went to his right side, awaiting instruction.

"Can you see this scar? I mean, is it really noticeable?" he asked, pointing to a mark on his shoulder. It was pretty damn dark- was this why he'd been wearing that sling?

"Oh my God-"

"It's that bad?"

"No, I mean, yes, but how- what is it?"

"Huh? I was shot." He didn't say anything after that, so I left. I never asked about his light bulb.

**What did you think? I know, it was pretty short. Did you enjoy it despite its shortness? Please review, and thank you for reading.**


	13. Hole

Hope you enjoy.

I own nothing.

Hole

I was in the middle of watching a rather obnoxious money program when Tony came on the intercom and asked me how big my hands are. When I didn't answer, he told me he needed me in the workshop.

It was the first time I'd gone down there in a while; he seemed to want time to himself, and I wasn't going to bother him. As I entered my access code, I saw him spread out on a chair, its back almost parallel to the ground. His shirt was off, and I saw that weird blue light again. I walked to him, holding up my hands for him to examine.

"Oh my God- is that the thing that's keeping you alive?" I had never seen it before. It was odd and almost cold looking. I couldn't imagine having that inside me.

"It was. It is now an antique. This," he said, lifting up a second light, "is what will be keeping me alive for the foreseeable future. I'm swapping it out for an upgrade… just ran into a little speed bump."

"Speed bump? Wh- what does that mean?" I asked, not liking where this was going.

"It's not bad, just a little snag. There's an exposed wire under this device and it's contacting the socket wall, and it's causing a little bit of a shortage," he said, neatly pulling the… thing out of him. It made a little pop before revealing an odd hole in his chest. He handed the contraption to me and I immediately set the nasty little device on the table.

"I just want you to reach in and you're just going to gently lift the wire out-"

I didn't listen to anything else he said. He wanted me to stick my hand in his damn chest! What the hell was wrong with him? And with me, for that matter. When I was hired, I wasn't told that sticking my hand inside an unnatural cavity in my boss was part of the job.

"-It's just like operation, don't let it touch the socket wall-"

"What do you mean operation?"

"It's just a game, never mind." He sounded a little breathless.

I reached my hand in, only delving about a centimeter before I gave way to my cowardice. "I don't think I'm qualified to do this."

"No, you're fine. You are the most capable, qualified, trustworthy person I've ever met. You're gonna do great… Is it too much of a problem to ask- cause I kinda need your help here." I gave in. Like I always did. I couldn't help but feel flattered by what he'd said- he looked honest and open. For once. Of course, it was partly to get me to stick my hand inside him, but you take compliments where you can get them, right?

To my disgust and dismay, there was goo- yes, _goo_- inside him. And yes, I also know this whole thing sounds a bit perverse and twisted. Believe me, I was not enjoying it. He assured me the goo was harmless, despite its awful smell. I reached for a wire and began pulling it up. It slipped a little and fell against the metal lining. The buzz of the shock startled me. Tony stiffened for a minute, apparently not liking the feel of high voltage running through his system.

"Now make sure when you pull it out, you don't pull out the magnet at the end of it-" he added, just as I did exactly that. Oh, _shit._

I tried to put it back in, but he stopped me. Despite the fact that time was now of the essence, as he was going into cardiac arrest, we spent the next several moments bickering over what had happened. It was clearly his fault. Son of a bitch.

He handed me the new… thing when his strength began to fail and instructed me to attach it. This time, there was no hesitation as I stuck my hand inside him. He was dying.

There was a click, a buzz. Tony made a rather strange noise, akin to a yelp of… I don't even want to think about it. Then, of all things, he started to laugh. Here I was, about to have a heart attack myself- not to mention my goo covered hands- and he was laughing. Yet I felt happy, relieved. He was okay. Everything was going to be fine now, right? He wasn't going to be acting weird anymore.

I told him I would never, ever, ever, _ever_ do that again. There was no way in hell- I didn't give a shit if-

"I don't have anyone but you."

Whoa. Where the hell did that come from? I- I didn't know what to say. What could I have said? I mean, it wasn't entirely true. Tony didn't have a lot of people he could depend on- just me, Rhodey, Obadiah, and Happy… but surely they counted to him too, right? He really wasn't alone. Was he?

He shrugged like it was no big deal, then stood up, pulling the wires off him. I looked away as he did.

I saw a blue light out of the corner of my eye- what was it? Oh, of course, it was the old… thing. I picked it up.

"What do you want me to do with this?" I asked, trying to look at his face.

"Destroy it. Incinerate it." He tapped his new… thing for effect. He didn't need the old one anymore. But didn't it have some sort of sentimental value to him? And for God's sake, couldn't he put his frigging shirt on? Seriously.

"You don't want to keep it?"

"Pepper, I've been called many things, nostalgic is not one of them."

I sighed. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts."

As I walked away, he began muttering to his robots. I didn't hear what he said though. I just kept staring at the weird blue light I held in my hands.

**

* * *

**

I had emails to write. But I couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. Tony had a gaping hole in his chest, right where his sternum should be- oh gross! Did that get cut out? A shiver tingled down my spine. That was nasty. Icky. And kinda cool, in a really bizarre way. I mean, did he even have a heart? Well, of course he must, but how was there room for it with that thing inside him? I didn't even want to think about his anatomy. Wait- I did not mean, I mean, I wasn't thinking about- oh screw it. I just wish he'd keep his clothes on so I didn't have to look at him like that. It was awkward. I don't like to feel awkward.

I made my decision. I wasn't going to destroy the whatchamacallit. It had saved his life. It deserved a little recognition. Everything, everybody, likes a little recognition once in a while. Even me.

**Another short one, but once again, it was all I wanted to say about it. I felt this was an important point, though Pepper doesn't truly realize it. How could she when she has absolutely no idea what he's thinking? Please review! Remember, they make me happy.**


	14. Bubble

Well, my updates are going to become less regular now that school and everything is starting back up again… but I'll do my best.

I own nothing.

Bubble

"Hey, Pepper." I heard Tony calling me from the other room. Lately, his voice had been quiet and unsure.. He was worrying me. He was spending hours in his workshop, creating goodness knows what. His partying and sex life had come to a complete halt. He just looked tired and vulnerable and- I can't really describe it: his eyes, his face. He looked like he'd seen too much of the world, and it somehow injured him.

I went to him. He was lying on the sofa, his hand over his eyes.

"Pepper, what do you- I want an honest answer- what do you think I'm doing?" he asked without looking at me.

"Um. To be honest, I don't know what you're building."

He sighed. "No, I mean, what am _I_ doing."

Was this some kind of trick question?

"Don't you know?"

He said nothing.

"Tony?" I asked, moving to sit on the edge of the couch.

"No. No I don't. I have no idea."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He moved his legs to accommodate me.

"Isn't that what we're doing?" I could see him smirking under his hand.

"Yes, I suppose we are." Now what? He wanted to talk about his psyche or something? Hell, he was even lying down. It's like I was his frigging shrink.

Neither of us said anything for several minutes. Awkwardness began to seep into my skin. I felt cold.

"Pepper-" he said suddenly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. It was so quick I didn't have a chance to move away from him. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

I was struck dumb for a moment. He wanted my opinion. What was going on here? "Tony," I began, mimicking the soothing mother as much as possible, "of course not. You are acting a little… off, but that's to be expected. You went through a lot. You'll be your old self in no time."

"I don't want to be my old self anymore." I hate his eyes. I hate how big and brown they are. He's like a damn jersey cow- he's even got the long eyelashes. I hate it.

"Um…" I stuttered. He was way too close. His face was only a few inches from mine. We've had the personal space conversation many times before. What was so difficult about me keeping my sanity?

"No, it's fine. I'm probably boring you anyway." His words were light but I detected hurt beneath them.

"No it's fine. If you want to talk then-"

"Pep, it's okay. Seriously."

But I knew it wasn't.

I looked at him, at his face. He looked wounded. He never told me what exactly had happened to him. He hadn't told me what was bothering him. He had changed somehow. He never used to hide anything from me. I didn't like it. Then again, he never used to act so… needy. I wasn't sure if I liked that or not. I sure as hell didn't like how it made me feel whenever he was near.

I waited several more minutes, silently hoping he'd open up.

"It's getting late. You should probably go home and get some sleep," he whispered, putting his hand over mine. It was so rough and coarse. I saw that he wanted time to himself, so I left. Or perhaps, I left because of the way his hand felt over mine.

I had a strange feeling inside me- I felt warm and cold and scared and excited all at the same time. I felt like the night was especially beautiful. I felt like a child when it has an incredible experience for the first time. I felt- it's impossible to explain. The night air was thick and comforting. I rolled down the windows in my car, and dug through the pile of Cds that littered the passenger seat. For some reason, I chose one that an ex-boyfriend gave me years ago when I was studying French. Quelqu'un ma dit. A song of longing.

**

* * *

**

It's impossible to say what happened, or when it happened. Several years ago, I'd determined not to let my… feelings for my boss interrupt things. We were friends. I was his employee. He was a selfish asshole. Everything was kept in its proper place, and I can safely say there was never a moment when I truly considered Tony as anything more than something nice to look at. There was no doubt, no hesitation. And now- I felt lost. He was different. He was slightly out of his mind, but he was trying to be more helpful. He'd stopped making weapons. He didn't leave any disheveled women for me to clean up. He kept out of my hair- though I didn't like the explosive sounds coming from his workshop. He was different. So did that change anything else?

**

* * *

**

I blew a couple naughty bubbles away from my nose. Dishes have never been a favorite pastime of mine, and rebellious bubbles always annoy me.

We'd had a rather icky macaroni and cheese for dinner- Tony had tried his hand at shopping and managed to buy the worst mac 'n cheese know to man. I was desperately trying to eradicate any signs of the shit from the face of the earth. I felt something warm against the back of my neck: breath. What the f-

I nearly jumped out of my skin- who the hell was in my bubble! And in my frantic movement, I nearly knocked Tony in the face with a wet sponge. He'd come up behind for… I have no idea what.

"Little high strung, now are we?" he said, wiping soap out of his eye.

"Are you okay? Do you want a washcloth?" I asked. Soap in the eye is a bitch, plus I felt kinda bad.

"Nah. I'm fine. I was just wondering if you wanted some help."

"With what?"

He smiled. "The dishes."

"Um. Sure, I guess."

He nudged me to the side and took the purple gloves off my hands. I just stood there, dumbstruck. And not just because he was washing the dishes. He began attacking the remnants of dinner on a plate.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" I said.

"Because you're watching me wash dishes. I promise I won't break any of them."

"Well, it doesn't matter because you'll be the one paying for them. And it's weird. You never hel- wash dishes," I sputtered. I was going to say he never helped me. Not that I care.

He actually stopped scrubbing for a moment. "Yeah, I know. I never helped you."

"No, of course you helped me-" I lied.

"Pepper, we've already been over this. You're a terrible liar. You should just give up on it altogether." I couldn't help but blush.

"Well, you were kinda-"

"I don't even want to hear it," he said.

We talked about nothing for several minutes. I leaned against the countertop, suddenly reluctant to leave him. He may have protested about my presence, but he certainly didn't seem to mind. He was an efficient dish washer. When I told him so, he took a handful of bubbles and threw them at me. I squealed, admonished him thoroughly, and demanded an apology.

"I'm sorry Pepper. I shouldn't have thrown soap at you. It was a very childish thing for me to do."

I wasn't convinced, but I let it slide.

Maybe I shouldn't have, but I saw a bubble escaping from the sink, floating up and away, and I leaned forward and blew at it, forcing it even higher. This time, I had intruded on Tony's bubble. He could admonish me if he wished. If I was smart, I would've stepped back and out of range, but I'm afraid my brains failed me. I just stood there, looking at him as he looked at me. I felt him inch forward the tiniest bit, then hold still. His hand rested on my ear before pushing a strand of hair out of my face. I blushed and pulled back; his hand fell away as I did. But I wasn't embarrassed or confused as I once would have been. I was in my home- well, basically- and with someone I knew well. Nothing felt more natural than touching him and letting him touch me.

He went back to the dishes, this time humming a bit, and I laughed because I knew he did it solely to make me do so. It was funny and weird- this new feeling. It was oddly domestic and strangely comfy at the same time. It was nice.

**Well, you know the drill by now. I like reviews. Reviews make me want to write so that I get MORE reviews. Yes, I am a review whore. Not that that's a bad thing. Ha.**

**Oh, by the way, the song I mentioned in this chapter really is a beautiful song. Just so you know.**

**Thank you for reading, and please review.**


	15. Pucker Up

Well, I've finally had some free time to write what I want to write, rather than analytical essays on the mindset of revolutionary artists. That's not a joke, by the way…

I own nada. Zip. Zilch.

Pucker Up

I was going to have fun. I was going to have a night to myself. I was going to meet new people and socialize for the first time in months. I was even a little excited over the prospect of dressing up.

Stark Industries was hosting its annual charity benefit, and I had to go. Not only did I want to but I was _required_ to by Obadiah. He said there was no way in hell Tony was going to come, and I needed to show that everything was just peachy. I was going to represent Tony Stark, who really _really_ needed to be represented well, especially now. The whole world thought he was crazier than Lady Gaga. And that's a lot of crazy.

Tony had bought me a dress for my birthday, albeit unknowingly, and I loved it. Hell, if this dress was somehow manifested in human form, I would have married it. I loved the silky, periwinkle material- and the back- and- yeah. Anyway.

I told Tony I was leaving early. He made no response whatsoever. Huffing paint for all I know. He'd been reclusive lately and I didn't like it. That meant he was up to something, and when he was up to something, I wanted to be prepared for the media frenzy that would shortly follow. I was worried over his mind too. He'd been acting odd. Maybe Obi was right- maybe he did have post traumatic stress. It made sense, after all. And Obi always seems to know everything. He's like Santa Claus, only a little less creepy.

But tonight- tonight I wasn't going to worry about Tony. I wasn't even going to think about him. Tonight I was going to enjoy myself.

**

* * *

**

Rhodey called me just before I walked out the door, asking me if I wanted a date. I assured him I could somehow manage on my own without a penis endowed guardian to protect from others who were also lucky enough to be endowed with a penis. He wished me a good night in a voice that meant something entirely different.

Men. They always think you need one in order to exist. So annoying.

The drive was a short one, but I took a back route to avoid traffic. My car was parked, and I joined all the glittering socialites within the concert hall.

I immediately looked for any other women dressed like me, and thank God, there was no one with my gown. That would have been _terrible_.

After standing near the bar for a moment, I felt someone watching me. I turned around, only to find my old friend Tatiana standing behind me. We'd modeled together years ago. I was surprised she even remembered me. She was nice, though I seem to remember she was a little…

"Oh my _God_- Vir-_ginia!_" she squeaked at an ungodly octave. I flinched inwardly. Yeah. She was still a little bit of a ditz.

"Ana, it's so nice to see you again," I returned, effusing more warmth than I felt.

"You know what?- I was _just _thinking about you!" Tatiana whined as though she had thought of me literally five seconds ago. "Wasn't I just thinking about her, Eric?" she added, pulling on the silken necktie of a rather slimy looking gentleman. His gelled hair, car salesman grin, and velvet voice all evoked the image of a boozing womanizer. I liked him instantly, perhaps because I'd become so used to that kind.

"So Eric, how long have you and Tatiana been together?" I asked after the introductions had been made.

"Couple years. Gorgeous girl- brainy, funny-" he said, trailing off as he eyed her getting our drinks. I smiled. He must like her.

"Yeah. She's a sweetheart."

Not long after Ana came back with our required alcohol, I was stolen away by Pete Harrison- one of the top yearly donors, as well as an important business associate of Stark Industries. And Tony had ditched that last two meetings with him. I quickly tried to make amends when he asked me if Mr. Stark was quite well, hoping that he wouldn't become angry with me for my boss' lack of interest in business. For all the positive things I can say about Mr. Harrison, he has one major drawback- he's an old man who likes young women- and I mean that in the most plural sense. I smiled kindly to his suspicious wife who joined us to keep an eye on her husband.

So far, the night was mediocre at best. I'd been ambushed by an old acquaintance who was just a little bit obnoxious. I'd been leered at by several older gentlemen. I'd had a slightly tipsy Stark secretary ask me if Tony was gay. I laughed, and told him yes, everyone knew that. He grinned like a loon and walked away. In fact-

"You look fantastic- I didn't recognize you."

No. No way. This is not funny-

I turned and saw none other than my boss, who I was assured would not come tonight.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just avoiding government agents. Where'd you get that dress?" he asked like it was important somehow.

"Oh, it was a birthday present… from you, actually." Great. Now I was embarrassed and flustered and- oh shit.

"Well, I've got great taste." He smiled, looking rather proud of himself for picking out my periwinkle dress. And yes, I love saying "periwinkle." It's such a fun word.

"Yes." There was no point in denying it. He may not have picked it out, but it _was _a nice dress regardless.

"You… wanna dance?" He almost sounded shy. And I just about lost it.

"Oh, no, no- ah!" I squealed as he took my hand and led me out.

We began to dance, or rather, he tried to lead a block of wood. I was stiffer than a cadaver- or a… never mind- and nervous as hell. I thought I was gonna vomit all over his pretty shoes. At the same time, I thought I was hiding my discomfort pretty well. Maybe he wouldn't even notice.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He was looking away from me as he said it and he seemed a little annoyed.

"Oh, no. No, I always forget to wear deodorant and dance with my _boss_ in front of everyone that I work with in a dress with now back," I rambled. I just love run-ons when I'm nervous.

"Well, you look great, you smell great. I could fire you though if that would take the edge off." He was smiling his charming- but -not- sleazy- charming smile. I liked it.

"I don't think you could tie your shoes without me," I responded. He couldn't. He wouldn't want to do anything himself. Lazy bastard. Then again, if he did, I wouldn't be working for him, now would I?

"I'd make it a week." Uh oh. Flirtation radar alert. Stop- stop-

"Really? What's your social security number?" I continued, ignoring the warnings in my brain.

He stopped for a moment and thought, I mean _really _considered it. He had no idea.

"Five." His voice sounded defeated but his face was alight.

"Five- right. You're missing just a couple of digits-"

"-The other eight."

I couldn't help but giggle. The tension began to leave my body. I didn't even notice everyone watching us anymore.

"Well, I've got you for the other eight," he said. Huh. Second time recently that he's said something like that- something about me being important, necessary even. Why? What was going on? Why was he saying these things? Did he mean it?- was I really important to him? No, I couldn't be. He was just being friendly. _I _was just being friendly. That's all this was-

Whoa. That look was not just friendly. That was- holy shit- that was a downright subconscious sexual desire look. Umm… awkward, I guess? Was it awkward? I mean, deep down inside me, was I disgusted or repulsed by that thought?

No. No I wasn't.

We continued dancing in silence, trying to look at each other without being obvious. He just kept staring at me. His hands tightened a little in their grip, leaving my skin hot. I could feel my skin turning red, whether from warmth or embarrassment I'm not sure.

What was I doing? What did I want? Hell- what did _he_ want?

"How about a little air?" he mumbled. Huh. Answers that question. He just wants some air.

He led me out onto the balcony, the bustling city below looking neon and mutely beautiful. The stars were shining, twinkling even, and the moon was hiding behind a cloud, giving a misty look to the sky. I was more than a little hypnotized by it, and by the fact that I was with my friend in the midst of the natural romanticism.

I felt my heart race. My nerves began to eat away at my calm again.

"That was weird," I blurted out.

"It was totally harmless," he said, his voice soothing.

"It was totally _not_ harmless by the way- everyone I work with-"

"We just danced-"

"No! It was not just the dancing! It's because you're _you_ and everyone knows exactly who you are and how you are with girls- which is perfectly fine- but then with me, you're my _boss_, and it makes me look like the one who's trying to-" Trying to what, exactly? "- And we're here, and I'm wearing this ridiculous dress and we were dancing like that and…" I was babbling again. I was trying to avoid something, trying to deny something. What was I missing? I trailed off, my mind drawing a blank. But he just kept looking at me, gently and- and- oh I don't even know- with his damn jersey cow eyes. I'm a little ashamed to say I went mushy on the inside. Was it just liquidity I was experiencing?- or was it something more? Was it- oh my God. No, I thought I'd put an end to that years ago.

I looked at him: at his eyes, at his freckles, at his weird facial hair. At his mouth. I leaned forward, slowly at first, my nerves completely vanished. My hands grasped his shoulders; an anchor to pull myself even closer. I felt his muscles tense under my hand- for a moment, I was afraid he was going to pull back- but then I felt his breath on my lips. We were so close, if I moved just a breath toward him-

I stopped. What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking. We both moved back, trying not to look embarrassed. He couldn't even look me in the eye.

"I would like a drink." Nice deflection, Pepper.

"Got it," he said, walking toward the door before he finished the sentence.

I specified my desired alcohol. I saw him rush to the bar, and I waited.

**

* * *

**

As I stood on the balcony, waiting for Tony to come back, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell had just happened. Why had I tried to kiss him? I mean, something in the back of my mind said I was in love with him, but that was impossible. I'd stopped caring about him like that years ago. He's a selfish asshole, and I deserved better. Then again, he wasn't a selfish asshole now. I honestly didn't know what the hell he was now. He was different, stranger. Stranger than usual. He kept talking to me in a weird way. Something about him made me just want to hug a puppy.

I stood there and waited, staring at the stars. There must be a crowd at the bar right now. I continued to wait for fifteen minutes before I got impatient and went inside, looking for Tony. He wasn't there.

**

* * *

**

As I drove home, the sensible part of my mind screeched "I told you so!" I should've known. Tony was still- and always will be- a selfish asshole. There was no denying it.

I was pissed at him and at myself for being so stupid. Probably angrier at myself for falling for his charms. All he'd wanted was sex.

Then again, I'd been willing and he knew it, so why did he leave? Maybe he just doesn't find me to be attractive.

**

* * *

**

I didn't see him again until the following night. He'd been gone all day, but none of his cars were missing. I'd have been concerned if I wasn't so annoyed.

I was typing long overdue emails, then- crash. I jumped, nearly dropping my laptop. I walked to the stairs, descending them slowly. There was glass everywhere. Had someone broken in?

As I looked up, readying to enter my pass code, I saw that the door had been blasted out, hence the glass. I heard a weird whirring and clicking. I looked up, and saw Tony. In a red and gold metal suit. With robots trying to take it off.

It took him a minute to notice me, and when he did, his eyes got as big as saucers.

"Let's face it, this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing," he deadpanned.

"Are those bullet holes?" I gasped.

Did he honestly think I cared about the suit?

**Taa daa! What did you think? Please review! It makes my soul smile. *Hint hint***


	16. Huge

Sorry for the delay!- college takes up most of my time now, and in the little spare time I've had, I've been writing something… _big_. Anyway, without further ado-

I own nothing. Unfortunately.

Huge

He'd lied to me. Every time he told me he was working on something harmless, he was lying through his artificially white teeth. He'd been building a suit- not just any suit- a killing machine. Tony had _killed_ people, and he wasn't sorry. He claimed he was just protecting the innocent.

"So what's your point? What gives you the right to be the world's police officer? What makes you think you can go around shooting people and blowing things up?" I screeched.

"No- but no one else is doing it! These people are defenseless against these raving bastards! Do you want me to just stand by and let them be slaughtered?" he returned with a volume nearly equal to my own.

Did he just accuse me of heartlessness? Oh boy-

"Excuse me? No! Tony- you are not deflecting this on to me! You know what? They were right. You have completely lost you mind! I don't know what the hell is wrong with you!"

His eyes widened; his feelings were hurt. Well, suck it up Tony. Mine are hurt too.

"You think I'm crazy?" he asked, his voice quiet and angry.

I sighed, attempting to calm down.

"I don't know."

"You do. You think I'm a nutcase."

"That- stop trying to make this about _me_. I don't know what the hell is going on with you, but ever since you came back, you've been crazy!"

"Oh, so you wish I'd never come back?"

"Tony-"

"What?" He moved closer to me, looking at me like he was going to read my thoughts.

I sighed again, running my hands through my hair. "Do _you_ even know what you're doing?"

He looked down at me- I'd taken my heels off- and gave me a sad smile.

"I haven't got a clue."

**

* * *

**

Rhodey was on the news doing damage control. The whole incident in Afghanistan had been a military test. No big deal. The government had no part in it. Everyone just needed to calm down.

Calm down my ass. What the hell was he doing? Tony was going to get himself killed. He'd survived the gauntlet once, and instead of running the other direction like any other normal, selfish human being, he was going back into it on his own volition. And I was supposed to be okay with that? Did he think that his life meant _nothing _to me? Did his own life mean nothing to _him_? Was he being brave and noble?- or was he just an idiot playing chicken on the railroad tracks? Both ideas pissed me off, yet everything in me wanted desperately to believe that Tony had just lost his mind. He's wasn't brave, he wasn't courageous or heroic. He'd just lost it. Poof- his brain had jumped out the window and had fun at Disney land.

I so wanted to believe that he was the same- I knew how to deal with the old Tony. This new version, which I was trying my best to deny, threw me off. I didn't know how to act or respond to Tony 2.0. If he really was valiant and heroic, that would mean he'd become someone else. And what was I supposed to do? I'd almost made out with him, for God's sake.

Why was I so against his newfound calling in life? I didn't want him to die saving others who didn't directly matter to me.

Yes. I'm selfish.

**

* * *

**

After several days' silence and awkwardness, Tony called me into his workshop. Part of me expected to be fired for the way I'd acted, but of course, he'd never do that. He couldn't even remember his social security number, right?

He threw down a weird little contraption and told me to hack into the Stark mainframe to find who'd been dealing under the table and who had been buying.

I stopped breathing once I heard the word "hack." No way. In hell. I'm not a secret agent- I couldn't lie to save my life. Hell, Tony _knew _that.

"What are you going to do with this information if I bring it back?" I asked coldly, already knowing the answer.

"Same drill- I'm gonna find my weapons and destroy them-" he mumbled, pretending to mess with something on his desk.

He was going to go out and do that all over again.

No.

No.

No way.

I had no intention of being there to see him die. Something in me snapped- stark realization took hold. This _was _Tony now. He wasn't going to stop. And I wasn't willing to have this… suit in my life.

"Is that so? Well then I quit." I dropped the computer chip onto the table and turned to walk out. I took several steps- I couldn't believe I was really going. Really walking out. On Tony. I never thought I could've left him-

"You stood by my side all those years while I reaped the benefits of _destruction_, and now that I've decided to protect the people I've put in harm's way, you're gonna walk out?" His voice was harsh and angry- apparently he hadn't gotten over our little tiff.

"You're going to kill yourself Tony. I'm not going to be a part of it."

Was he blind? Could he not see that I wouldn't be able to manage if anything happened to him?

Did I just not matter?

"I shouldn't be alive," he said, falling into a chair, "unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy, Pepper. I just finally know what I have to do- and I know in my heart that it's right." Wow. Vulnerability _and _honesty in one breath.

He meant more than anything to me. I wanted him to be happy.

And- oh shit- if this was going to complete him is some weird way, then-

I returned to the desk, picked up the lock chip, took a breath, and decided to match his honesty.

"You're all I have too, you know," I whispered before walking out. I felt his eyes burn my skin as I headed for the stairs.

**

* * *

**

No one eyed me suspiciously as I entered Tony's office. I was his personal assistant, and I'd come to get some real work done. No big deal.

Everything worked. The little device Tony made hacked into the information for me. I didn't have to do anything. It immediately brought up hundreds of hidden files, going through them all, then copying each one.

I saw shipping manifests to places I couldn't pronounce. There were plans for missiles, and a suit that looked oddly like Tony's newest toy. What the hell?-

And then-

There was a video of Tony, a bag being pulled off his head. He was bleeding, poorly bandaged, and scared. Several men stood around him, pointing guns at him. Another stood in front of the camera and read off a paper. Unfortunately, I don't understand Arabic-

Duh. Technology. I commanded the computer to translate; a choppy voice said in English something about the hit they'd been ordered to kill, having been deceived, something about-

Obadiah?

I listened carefully and sure enough, the man was directing this video of demands to Obadiah Stane. His order to kill Tony had not been followed through- the kidnappers wanted certain demands…

But I didn't really listen. Obadiah had paid these men to kill Tony. His best friend's son. His business partner. The man he'd practically raised. I couldn't believe it. I didn't have time to think either, as I heard someone at the door.

"So. What are we going to do about this?"

I looked up at Obadiah, who was leaning against the door- the epitome of nonchalance. I swallowed hard. I couldn't let him see fear- or what I was doing on the computer. I took the morning paper and rested it on the side of the computer. It barely covered the hacking device thingy.

I smiled, or at least, I tried to. Obadiah sauntered to Tony's personal wine bar, selecting a bottle and pouring himself a glass.

"Tony always gets the good stuff," he said, gesturing to the booze.

I nodded.

"I know what you're going through, Pepper," he said as he headed my way. Wait- he knew what I was looking at? Oh shit-

I moved the mouse slightly and brought up the screensaver just as he reached me. I leaned back in my chair, remembering my training as a model: stick out in the right areas, and no one will notice what you're up to. I hoped it still worked.

He took no notice of the computer. "I was so happy when he came back," he said, almost sounding remorseful, "and then- well, he never really did come back." I so badly wanted to believe him; Obi had been a faithful friend for years, but I couldn't trust him. He had betrayed Tony.

"Well, he's been through a lot, but I'm sure he'll be fine," I said. Obadiah just stared at me, his gaze and movements those of a predator. I needed to get out.

"You are a rare woman, Pepper. Tony doesn't know how lucky he is."

Okay- that was _not _platonic.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot," I mumbled, subtly taking the chip out of the computer and grabbing the paper. I walked out, but Obadiah caught me.

"Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing toward the paper.

"Oh, no-" I answered as I handed it to him.

I made my way down the hall, but not before he called after me, "Take care."

Of course, things never can be easy. When I desperately wanted to get back home and show Tony what I'd found, I was ambushed by the weird little government agent who'd been pestering me for the past few months. I was going to ignore, but then it occurred to me that telling him everything would probably be the best choice. I ordered him to follow me, and as we scurried out, I saw Obadiah staring at me from the second floor. He looked _pissed_.

**

* * *

**

What followed was a horribly tedious three hour interview with Coulson - the weird little guy- and his superiors. At first, they didn't believe me that Mr. Stane had hired terrorists to kill Mr. Stark, but when I showed them the information I'd copied, they took me more seriously. After finding everything to be satisfactory, they loaded their weapons and asked me to accompany them back to Stark Industries. I called Tony, anxious to tell him what the hell was going on. He answered, but immediately hung up. Each time I called afterward, I was ignored. Something was wrong.

I called Rhodey. He was gonna check on Tony for me. I had no idea what he would find, but I knew it wouldn't be pretty.

Everyone else had gone home. The work day ended at about eight, and no one was doing overtime. I used my access card to let the agents in, then led them to the room Obadiah's engineers had been using to replicate Tony's suit. My card didn't work there.

I thought the plan had failed, but one of the men with Coulson placed a small device on the door and blew it open. I tried not to jump too high, but the noise was pretty loud.

We went in, seeing and hearing nothing. No one was there. It was pretty creepy though- I was scared and the room was pitch black, save the occasional light from machinery.

There _was _a suit- small, dilapidated, and overall, not very impressive. Was this it? This was the best Obadiah could do?

Then, I heard it. A low booming sound. At first, I thought my ears were still smarting from the explosion used to open the door. There was nothing there, right?

I was unconvinced. Something was wrong. I walked on, seeing nothing in the darkness. The sound stopped; I didn't hear anything for several minutes until chains rattled at my side. I stepped toward them, trying my best to be brave.

Nothing. I must've been imagining things. Just as I was about to turn around though, I saw eyes. Big, bright eyes. As the thing that possessed the eyes stepped out from its hiding place, I saw a suit similar to Tony's.

It was _huge_. And not in a good way.

I screamed.

**Well, what did you think? I hope you enjoyed it, since I did make you all wait a while for an update. I hope the oh-so-suspenseful ending won't be too much for you. You'll never guess what happens next.**

**Lol.**

**Please review!**


	17. Can't Keep Your Mouth Shut

Once again, sorry for the delay. I've been pretty dang busy.

I own nada.

Can't Keep Your Mouth Shut

There really isn't much to say. I ran, I screamed, I ducked as gunfire sounded. The parking lot was empty, and as I stood there, contemplating my next move, my phone went off. It was Tony, of all people.

"Tony- are you okay?"

"I'm fine-"

"Tony, it's Obadiah- he's gone insane!" I panicked.

"I know- you need to get out of there-"

I didn't hear what he said next; Obi's suit _came out of the fricking pavement _ten feet in front of me.

"Where do you think you're going?" it said in an awful, mechanized voice.

I just screamed.

"Your services are no longer required," it snarked, holding its arm and a huge gun to my head. I stood there, dumbfounded. Obadiah was going to kill me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I don't know what happened next- bullets went flying, I ducked again, and then Tony's suit was attacking Obadiah's. They disappeared into the ground. I heard explosions and crashes, but I didn't know what was going on.

It wasn't till some minutes later I saw both suits flying away, eventually meeting up in the air, and one fell soundly back to Earth. Oh shit.

Suddenly, Tony's voice was in my ear again, telling me he needed to get out of his suit. Before I could answer though, I heard Obi in the background. Tony stopped talking.

I stood there, ringing my hands, pulling my hair. What could I do? I would do anything to help Tony right now, but I'm not exactly bulletproof now am I?

"… blast the roof."

Wait, what? He wanted me to go back in there and overload the circuit? Was he insane! What a dumb question.

I walked carefully over broken glass and twisted metal- stilettos are not the best shoes for such times- and made my way to the control center.

I pulled every lever, pushed every button. All that was left was the one big red button on the table. When Tony gave me the okay, I'd push it too. I had no idea what the hell it would do, but that was beside the point.

As if things weren't bad enough already, glass randomly fell on me, and when I looked up, I saw Tony dangling from the metal beams that once held up the roof. Obadiah was firing missiles at him.

"Pepper! Time to hit the button!" he cried.

"You told me not to!" I answered. He was still on the roof! I wasn't going to kill him!

"Just do it!" he yelled.

"But you'll die!"

He slipped. He was holding the entire weight of the suit with one arm grasping the beam.

"Push it!" he commanded.

I obeyed. I didn't think about it. I just ran.

There was an explosion like I'd never seen before. Tony was dead. He had to be dead. And what about Obadiah? Was he still alive?

I scurried everywhere, calling Tony's name over and over again. He didn't respond. It wasn't until Agent Coulson emerged from God knows where that we found him.

* * *

The next day, I was covering Tony's cuts and bruises with makeup, getting him ready for a big press conference to discuss the previous night's mishap. Coulson was filling him in on exactly what to do and say, hoping he'd stick to the cards this time.

"Iron Man- that's kinda catchy," he mumbled, reading about a suited hero in the newspaper.

Coulson gave him the cards, wished him luck, and went to leave.

Before he reached the door, I stopped him.

"Agent Coulson- I wanted to thank you-"

"Well, it's what we do," he answered.

"You mean the 'Strategic Intervention' -" I said, trying to get the tongue twister out.

"Just call us SHIELD," he responded as he left.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," I said cheerily, gathering up Tony's things. He came to me as usual, standing still as I helped him with his coat, then turning as I smoothed the collar.

"You know, if I were Iron Man-" he began.

"You're not Iron Man."

"I am."

"Not."

"Well, if I _were _Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who'd always be worrying about me- she'd be a wreck, which would only make her crazier about me," he rambled, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Tell me you never think about that night."

"What night?" I asked innocently.

"You know."

Oh boy. "You mean, the night we danced?- and we went on the balcony, and you went inside to get me a drink- and you left me there?- by myself? Is that the night you're talking about?"

He nodded quietly, clearly embarrassed.

"I thought so. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"Yes, that will be all, Miss Potts." He rushed out of the room, and I went to the TV to watch.

Everything was going fine- he began to get off topic, but Rhodey leaned in and guided his path.

Tony lifted up the cards, ready to carefully dictate each word. I waited. And waited, but he just stood there, looking at the cards. What the hell?

"Truth is," he began, finally. "I am Iron Man."

I nearly choked to death.

* * *

For several weeks after the fiasco of the press conference, I will admit that I was one cold bitch. I hardly spoke to Tony, and when I did, it was purely professional. We weren't friends; hardly even acquaintances during that time. Besides, even if I'd _wanted_ to talk to him, I wouldn't have had the time. His "I am Iron Man" thing had cost me all the peace and quiet I had; my work load increased tenfold. I was perpetually pissed. Of course, I know I was a bit harsh. I felt terribly guilty every time Tony tried to talk to me. At first, he attempted to make nice, but after my constant rebuffs, he gave up, becoming as quiet and sphinx-like as I was. It was uncomfortable, and worst of all, I was lying. I had forgiven him five minutes after the conference.

We were in the car; Happy was taking us home. I was glaring out the window, trying to fight back tears of anger, when I felt a gentle pressure on my hand. I looked down, and saw Tony's hand covering mine. He was looking at me with his big, brown, puppy dog eyes- I always went weak when he did that.

"Pepper- I'm sorry. I should've talked to you first," he said, his voice low and quiet. "It's just-"

"Just that your ego couldn't be repressed?" I asked sharply.

And just like that, the vulnerability left his face; his hand abandoned mine. I knew it was difficult for him to be open about his feelings; remorse was not something he felt, or expressed, very often. I was just so angry and hurt. I still wished I hadn't said that, even though I knew I was right. I wanted to tell him I had forgiven him. I stole a glance his way; he was hurt. I wanted to tell him I was terrified of losing him, and how the dangers were even greater now that his identity was known. I wanted to tell him that I-

But the point is, I didn't. I didn't say anything. We continued on in silence, as I tried to ignore the tingling in my hand.

* * *

The distance between us grew as time passed. Our limited physical contact of before was now nonexistent. It had been nearly three weeks- our tiffs never lasted this long. He behaved himself perfectly though- there hadn't been a single girl since he came back from Afghanistan. There were no wild parties, no drunken stupors. Just an air of awkwardness so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. After all, he had asked me- in a roundabout, pathetic way- if I would be the girlfriend that every superhero requires. I hadn't said no. I just put him off it for a while. Nearly losing him had been too much for me, and I felt that if I allowed myself to _really _fall in love with him, I would be unable to part with him. And ironically, he thought I didn't give a damn about him one way or the other.

He went on more missions; they grew more violent- he was away longer. Sometimes he came back unharmed; others, he looked terrible. I'd watch him attempt to nurse his wounds. I so badly wanted to hold him and take all his hurts away, but I didn't. We were two, stubborn, proud adults- and neither of us wanted to give way. And both of us were miserable. The strain was becoming unbearable.

Then, one day, I came early to find him. He needed to sign some papers. At least, I told myself that was what I was going to do. I would try to break the ice. Just a little. There was one small problem- he wasn't there. Even though we were giving each other the cold shoulder, I was always informed of when he'd go off as Iron Man. This time, there was nothing. I sat in his workshop, alone, and asked Jarvis where he was.

"He is currently in Iraq, Miss Potts. A riot spiraled out of control." He hadn't told me.

"How is he?" I asked, voice quavering.

"I'm afraid Mr. Stark is meeting heavy resistance. The militants were better armed than he expected," the emotionless voice continued.

I made the mistake of watching the news. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I sat- unmoving- while he battled tanks and was bombarded by missiles. After five minutes, I turned it off. The crying went on as I carried myself onto a conveniently placed sofa, and I fell asleep; my final thoughts being of him dying- and we hadn't spoken in weeks.

Regret is a bitch.

* * *

I woke to the sound of metal clanging. I was still slightly our of it, but I recognized the noise- and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. The sofa was facing away from him; he had no idea I was there. I propped my head up enough to be able to see him. He was peeling the neoprene top over his shoulders. My relief over his return was mixed with a sudden desire to pull him close and never let go. I wanted him so badly it literally hurt.

I got up. My heels had already been discarded, but he heard the light padding of my feet. He was perfectly still- his eyes holding mine. A black t-shirt was in his hands; he made no move to put it on. We stood in silence, in yearning, for what felt like eternity; then I went to him. There was and inch or two between us. I could see every scratch, bruise, cut, and burn- every droplet of blood and sweat. I knew he noticed my red eyes, it was obvious I'd been crying. It was obvious that I'd missed him, that I'd been worried about him. And the way he looked at me- it was a mixture of lust, need, and affection. Isn't that love? It was one of those rare moments when I believed he was in love with me. But enough of that.

Regardless of how dirty and hurt he was, I put my arms around him at the same moment he moved to embrace me. We pulled each other close. It was amazing how well our bodies fit together- like two pieces of the same puzzle. Burying my face in his neck, I felt his hands hold my waist, gently rocking my body in an attempt to comfort me. My hands drifted to his shoulders, holding him with everything I had. For the first time in weeks, I was happy, content. I had everything I wanted-

No, not quite everything, I realized at that moment. I could have had Tony; and the way his mouth grazed my forehead was questionable. I knew if I stayed where I was, this would go further than I wanted. Yet I stayed a few moments more. I wanted Tony. I wanted everything about him, everything he had to offer. But now was not the time. When I pulled back, I didn't get far- his grip was pretty strong. He wasn't ready to let go. I could feel the heat of his breath on my face, and it only made my body burn more than it already was. His eyes were so _different_. Everything about him was different- ever since he came back. The way he looked at me was deep and hungry, he wasn't trying to hide what he felt; I doubt my big doe eyes were hiding anything either.

Suddenly, his entire expression changed- awareness overtook him. His eyes grew darker, his pupils dilated. He leaned forward quickly, and I knew he wanted to kiss me. My thoughts ran at a million miles an hour- should I let him? Should I push him away? At the last moment, I turned my head- not a rejection so much as me pretending not to have known what his intentions were. He played along, though he looked more than a little hurt. It was my cowardly way out. I wanted him; yet I was afraid of the consequences. Could Tony handle a relationship? Would he get scared and run? I was terrified. Despite everything within me saying this was real, a horrible barb of doubt screamed that he just wanted sex. I _knew _he didn't, but-

"Tony," I whispered.

It took some effort for him to look at me.

"I missed you," I said, wiping a drop of blood off his temple. From the way his eyes brightened, I knew he understood that I was referring to the past few weeks, not the last nineteen hours. He had an adorable, hopeful look on his face. It made me all mushy on the inside.

"I missed you too," he murmured, then growing serious, he added, "Don't ever do that again. I don't like you not being here."

I smiled. Running my fingers through his hair- to neaten it- I asked him what he meant.

He paused; stumbled over his words. "Pep- you- I- I mean, I need- I really like having you with- around." It was the sweetest thing he'd ever told me; there was something oddly attractive about him when he was all awkward and honest. He was almost shy.

"Tony, I like- having you around too." That was romantic. We both smiled though, trying to shrug off the self-consciousness. I looked down, and saw a long cut across his lower ribs. "Do you want me to fix that?" I asked. He nodded. After a few moments of silence, he took initiative and sat, releasing the back of his chair so he could lie down.

A few alcohol swabs and one bandage later, I was putting everything away when Tony grabbed my hand. He'd pulled himself up into a sitting position, but he was still a bit shorter than me. It felt odd, looking down at him.

"Pepper," he said, massaging my hand, "I asked- I asked you a question a while ago, at least, I tried to. I don't think you really took me seriously, and I was serious. Not dead serious- that would be kind of morbid, but you know what I'm trying to say. Of course you do. You always know what I want to say or do or-"

"Tony-" He was so intent in his rambling that he didn't even notice that I tried to interrupt him.

"- It's just, I really think that it could work, if we tried. I mean, I'm not saying that you _have_ to, I mean, it would be really great if- but I think that, potentially, we could work together. Wait, I mean, not like that- we already work together, it's just- I mean- in a- a relationship-"

"Tony-"

"You don't _have_ to- I'm not going to fire you or anything if you don't. It's just, I just want you to think about it. About us." He stopped, his cheeks red- he blushed- and his eyes focused on the floor.

"Tony," I said again. He wasn't looking at me, and I have little doubt that he was expecting a rejection. I cupped his cheek with my hand and tried to force him to look at me. Even that took a little bit of coaxing. His eyes were big- well, big_ger_- and nervous as hell. "Tony-" what in hell was I supposed to say? I couldn't just tell him no, that would be mean, and besides, I wanted to give him a chance. I didn't want to say yes either: I would lose control over the situation. Dating Tony would be a gamble, and I needed to have power over it. Maybe?

"Tony- I'll think about it," I said gently. God- his face. He looked like a little boy at Christmas. It was adorable. We looked at each other, half awkward, half smiling, for a few moments before he stood up and asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee.

"No, it's two in the morning. Thank you though. I better get some sleep. I'm exhausted, and we have a meeting tomorrow."

"Really? Do we really need to go? And coffee won't hurt anyone-"

"It will keep me from sleeping."

"Well, go get your sleep then. You do look tired," he said, letting go of my hand.

"Oh no you don't," I interjected, "don't you dare go upstairs and drink coffee. You need to sleep too, Mr. Iron Man."

He smiled, and actually did what I said. We both went to sleep. The meeting went fine the next morning.

**Well, what did you think? Was it at all worth the wait? Please review and let me know!**


	18. Ocean

**IMPORTANT! Author's Note, Please Read:** Ha. Did that get your attention? Okay, I have a couple of things I need to say. 1) I will not abandon this story. I realize my updates are becoming few and far between, but don't worry. I'll finish. 2) Some of you seem to have noticed something important- I don't enjoy writing for scenes that are in the movie. It stifles my creativity. Therefore, I will NOT be following Iron Man 2. I'm making up my own sequel. (IM2 sucked anyway.) 3) Also, I have to thank one of my readers for offering to beta my work. I'll definitely consider it. The last few chapters were written in about 40 minutes a piece… with no editing. 4) Thank you all so much for the reviews. They are greatly appreciated.

I own nada.

Ocean

It's beautiful. The way it flows and surges, the way it looks green and blue at the same time. How the water foams like a rabid puppy dog. Well, that may not have been the best analogy, but it gets my idea across.

For the past few days, I've spent most of my time looking out the window, hypnotized by the constant motion. It keeps my mind off of my troubles.

With violence constantly erupting in the world, Tony is off all over the place playing superman. But he's not. He's not faster than a speeding bullet, he's not a man of steel. He can't even fly. The _suit_ can. He's not the suit. He's not impenetrable or immortal. He can be broken and beaten. Hell, _I've_ beaten him a few times and I'm hardly kryptonite.

We fought again. He told me he was going on a brief trip to Napa Valley. He leaves, and not six hours later, I'm watching the news. And guess who isn't in Napa Valley. I'm not sure how you can mistake Pakistan for luxurious California, but apparently he did. When he got back, he acted like nothing had happened. But I knew. And he knew I knew. He'd lied to me. Again.

I couldn't understand why. I knew he was Iron Man. I knew what he was up to: destroying the weapons his company had sold to violent people. So why had he tried to hide it from me?

* * *

"Tony- what the hell is wrong with you?" I asked, trying not to cry. I was _hurt._ Why did he keep pulling this shit on me?

"Pep, I don't know what you're talking about," he lied. Huh. He's about as bad a liar as I am.

"What? You lied," I sniffed.

No answer. He just looked straight at me without blinking. He looked at me like I was a child.

"You told me you were taking a trip-"

"I did."

"To Pakistan! That is _not _Napa Valley, Tony. Either your geography sucks or you are a lying bastard."

"I'm not."

"So now you're lying about lying to me?" I shrieked, growing more panicked each moment. Why was he not reacting? Did he not care?

"Calm down," he said. He reached for my arm, but I pulled back harshly.

"No. I will not calm down. What the hell are you up to?"

"You know already."

Dear God. If he gives _one _more two word answer I'll beat the shit out of him.

"No. I don't know. If I did, I wouldn't be asking you," I said.

"I'm destroying my weapons."

Um. No.

"Wha- no! I _saw_ the news, Tony. There _were_ no massive Stark weapons. A small village was on the verge of floating away after flooding, and you went and helped them out!"

"Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, trying to make me sound like some selfish bitch.

"With saving lives? No! But you _lied_ to me. You said you were going somewhere safe and then you're off trying to kill yourself! Why would you do that!" I shrieked. I couldn't stop myself from crying.

"I didn't want you to worry." His voice was calm and steady, angering me even more.

Huh?

I was completely exhausted and exasperated.

"Tony- I was fine. And then when I saw you on TV- it hurt-"

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" I shouted.

"I don't know."

"What kind of dumbass are you?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, actually surprised.

"You heard me," I said, wiping my nose ungracefully with my hand.

"Apparently so." When I looked up, his face was a little softer, like my tears or screams had finally gotten his attention. I was too busy sniffling to pull away when he put his arms around me. I was completely okay with it; it was gentle and comforting and friendly-

That is, I was okay with it until it became a little more than friendly. He started kissing my neck and putting his hands on my waist. I didn't even think about how good it felt. I was angry, and so he chooses _now _as the moment to "put the moves" on me, when he's had _months_? What the hell?

I pushed him away. He was stunned. I guess a woman has never done that to him before.

"Are you okay?" he said.

"Of course not! I'm unbelievably pissed at you!"

His eyes got huge.

"Pepper-" he said quietly, unable to continue.

This time though, I didn't answer him. I kept looking at the floor.

"Well, that- I- you-" he stumbled. He tried to say what was on his mind for another minute before he walked away.

I straightened my dress- he _had_ messed it up a little, walked to the window, and sat down.

Just like that.

* * *

And here I am. Days later, still sitting at the window, staring into nothingness, watching stormy water ebb and flow. Waiting for him to come back from some unpronounceable place halfway around the world. Was I just overreacting? I mean, he lied to me. I understand what he's doing, and I'm even willing to accept it. But he has to be willing to accept me as more than a personal assistant before we could enter any kind of relationship. I'm sick of him acting like nothing needs to change. I'm tired of his nonchalance, of his arrogance. I'm tired of his blindness. I'm tired of him not understanding my feelings, or even his own.

And I'm tired of staring at the damn water.

**Ta daa! I finally updated. I hope you enjoyed it, even if it was a little emo. I know it was short, but with any luck, it was satisfactory regardless. Please review and let me know what you think. Comments always help me gauge my writing. **


	19. Lick

Oh my… times certainly does fly. Once again, I'm sorry for the delay. My lazy time lasted longer than I anticipated.

I own nothing. Well, actually, I own lots of things, just not Iron Man.

Lick

"Tony?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

I was sitting in his workshop reading an old copy of Vogue magazine Tony had stashed away- I have no idea why. He was working on his newest car. There was nothing wrong with it, he wanted to take it apart merely to put it back together again. I didn't care; whatever makes him happy, I guess.

His tinkering actually stopped momentarily; he was shocked that I'd just apologized.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, rolling my eyes. He could at least pretend to have a little more faith in my apology. And I did mean it. I'd decided I was being a bit of a bitch. Tony can't help it if he's a little dense when it comes to certain things. I haven't let him get to know me well enough to understand what I need.

"For what?"

"What do you think? For yelling at you."

"Huh. Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

He went back to his work, though clearly distracted.

"Shit!" he yelled, dropping the wrench.

I tossed the magazine aside and went to examine his booboo. I half expected to see fingers strewn onto the floor, though it was nothing nearly as exciting.

"Tony, you just cut yourself," I said, taking his hand and examining his bleeding knuckles.

"Yeah, I noticed."

"No need for sarcasm. If you keep it up, I'll just leave you to bleed to death on the floor."

"Pepper, I'm not bleeding nearly enough for that to happen," he added quietly.

"Well, not unless I stabbed you," I said. Wait, what? Where the hell had that even come from?

"Not unless you what?" he said, pulling his hand away and giving me a suspicious glare. "I always knew you wanted to kill me."

"Tony, I don't want to kill you-"

"So what are you- a cannibal? Do you want to eat me?"

Ha. Of course not…

"Um. No, that's disgusting," I answered, trying to sound serious.

"Really? I didn't think it sounded too bad."

"What?" I asked, taken aback, but he was too busy laughing to answer.

He took a few steps toward the desk, and stood with his back to me. I didn't like him facing away from me. I felt a little deflated, to be honest.

I was a little torn over what to do next. One side of me said I should leave and get back to work, but the other side wanted to go to him and fix his cut- even though he was capable of doing so himself. Then again, we weren't really a couple… I didn't know what we were. But I really wanted to- screw it.

I walked up behind him and put my arms around his waist, kissed his neck, and rested my chin on his shoulder. He didn't seem the least bit surprised or annoyed over my show of intimacy. He acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

He- typical male that he is- was sucking on his cut.

"Tony, stop that. You're like a vampire."

"Excuse me? I don't sparkle."

I couldn't help but giggle.

"And what are we laughing over, Miss School Girl?" he asked, deviously smiling as he turned around.

"Hmm? I don't see a school girl," I replied.

He pressed his face into my neck and pressed his hands onto my waist and my hips.

"Really?" he murmured, his voice muffled, "I could teach you a few things."

His facial hair tickled my neck, and I started giggling again. I just couldn't help myself. It was strange- I'd never let him get this close to me before.

"Do you giggle a lot?" he asked.

"No," I answered. I took several deep breaths, eventually calming myself down. I was fine until he pressed his mouth against my collar bone, intermittently kissing and licking my skin.

I gasped- not just a normal gasp, but that breathy, high pitched gasp that I make.

Tony's head popped up, a smile forming on his lips.

"That was a weird noise, Pepper."

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I know."

"It was pretty hot," he said, immediately returning his attention to my clavicle, this time with a vengeance.

I gasped again. It felt so damn _good_ I just couldn't help myself. As I put my hands on his shoulders, he lifted me up, my legs instinctively going around his waist. He pushed me onto the table, kissing and touching and all sorts of delightful things. I was about to pull him closer when he pulled back.

"Let's go out," he said, his breath uneven.

"Out? Why?" I whined.

"Because I want an ice cream cone."

"Are you serious?" I laughed. "Why do you want an ice cream cone?"

"Um, why would I _not _want an ice cream cone?"

I checked my watch.

"Tony- it's almost nine-"

"Dairy Queen's still open."

True, they were open till ten, but- seriously? I didn't want an ice cream cone. In all blatant honesty, I wanted to do Tony.

"Fine. Go get yourself some desert."

"What- you don't want anything?" he asked, obviously hurt at my refusal.

"Well, there are plenty of things I want-"

"I want you."

"I've always wa-" He what? I hadn't been paying attention. "What did you say?"

"I want you. Right now. On this table. We'd better get some ice cream." He pulled completely away from me and grabbed the keys for one of his cars. I pushed myself off the table and adjusted my clothes.

"What does ice cream have to do with that?" I asked.

"It's a distraction. Come on,' he answered, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the car with him. He was out of the garage before I even had a chance to buckle the safety belt.

**

* * *

**

He was speeding again. I hate driving with him- the narrow, winding roads around here are not a speeder's best friend. After ten minutes, he slowed the car to a sudden stop.

"Do you want some air?"

"You mean, the top?" I asked, gesturing to the convertible's roof.

He nodded.

"Sure, I'll put it down," I said, reaching for the button.

As he stepped on the gas, I heard him mutter, "You could just take the top off."

My cheeks turned bright red.

By the time we finally got to Dairy Queen, I decided I wanted something with whipped cream- like a banana split. I hadn't had one in years: my healthy diet was a bit of a bitch.

Once we got the ice cream deliciousness, we parked and I greedily took my banana split out of his grasp.

"Tony," I said, taking a bite, "you never fixed your hand."

"Really?" He examined the cut. "Huh. Did I get any blood on you?"

"No. I don't think so."

"That's surprising." He was grinning at me like the frigging Cheshire cat. A cute Cheshire cat.

I didn't respond. I was too busy eating. In fact, it was almost better than sex. Almost, not quite.

"You two enjoying yourselves over there?"

I looked up, guiltily licking a bit of whipped cream off myself. "Yes."

He smiled and put his cone on the dashboard. "You missed some."

Before I had time to do much of anything, he'd leaned over my seat, pressed his face against mine, and licked the remaining whipped cream off my lip. He then pulled away, and resumed eating his ice cream cone.

I sat there, stunned. What were we, a couple of horny teenagers?

"Did you just lick me?"

"Huh? No. Why the hell would I do that?"

"You just licked me."

"Circumstantial evidence, that's all you've got."

I started laughing again, nearly dropping my banana split in the process.

"You just can't help yourself, now can you? You just can't stop giggling."

"You- hee hee- licked- hee- me-hee hee!" I squealed, my tummy beginning to ache.

"We'll see about that," he said as he abandoned his desert once more and tilted my seat back. He pushed himself on top of me, then took away my ice cream.

"Tony, people can see us," I giggled.

"No one's around."

Well, I got the horny part right.

**Lol. Guys think they are so darn clever with their sneaky ways. Anyway, the last few chapters have been a little on the emo side, and as I was feeling rather hilarious today, I wrote this. I hope you enjoyed, or at least got a laugh out of it. I sure did.**

**Please review! Gracias.**


	20. Yes, No, Maybe So

Heh heh. Yeah. I know. Delayed. I meant to write, and then I got incredibly lazy, and then I was sidetracked by A Tale of Two Cities.

Oh, and I need to thank BlackPuma137 for beta-ing my nonsense, and for being very good at it too.

I own nothing. (Doesn't that get old after a while?)

Yes, No, Maybe So

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he-

What the hell am I doing? I look down, and see that I'm mangling a poor daisy that happened to lean my direction, rather than standing tall in its vase. I feel a bit guilty; it had been a rather pretty flower. Now it was nothing but wrinkled petals and a sphere of messy pollen. Pollen that got all over my black skirt. Fantastic. I looked like I'd been attacked by a giant bee.

To be honest, I was trying to figure out what Tony and I were to each other. We were boss/employee, then friends, then the next thing I knew, we were snogging on the couch. It all happened so fast. We'd never actually… had sex, but we were making out like a couple of teenagers.

And then it stopped.

Just like that. The spark left our quasi-relationship in a week. Tony never asked why, he never even mentioned what we'd done after our frantic passion vanished. It was like it never happened. But he never brought home another girl. He never partied. He just _existed_ and kept to himself. I did the same.

I _did _question why I'd let myself go wild. It just wasn't like me to make out with my _boss_ and not have a stable relationship as an excuse. We had nothing. Aside from the one time he mentioned a relationship to me, we'd never discussed it. We never brought it up- neither of us were willing to risk loosing a good thing. Then again, nothing lasts forever.

And what was I _supposed _to do? I'm a coward, as much as I try to deny it. I wasn't going to barge into his workshop and ask him how he felt about me, and not because I was afraid of asking, but because I was afraid of the answer. I was afraid he'd "experimented" with me, and then gotten bored. Was I boring? Is that why we were stiffer and more rigid around each other than we ever were before?

I was embarrassed for ever having acted that way- and I felt I could never look him in the eye again.

And I think he felt the same.

* * *

It was the first board meeting I'd had to attend in a few months, and it was an unwelcome surprise. It lasted from one to four- three hours wasted on shit. I was starched up, all black, with a jacket to add to the effect of aloofness. I was accompanying Tony- to take notes for him so that he wouldn't have to listen. I adjusted his coat and collar, fixed his necktie. He stood firm in place, not moving while I touched him.

"Well, that's as good as it's going to get," I mumbled, tapping a miniscule piece of fluff off his shoulder.

"Thank you, Miss Potts," he said. He cleared his throat and took a tiny step back, maintaining his distance.

"You're welcome, Mr. Stark."

We stood there staring at each other for a couple of minutes before he took initiative and grabbed his car keys. Happy had the day off.

The board meeting went just like every other, except, Tony didn't text me at all the whole time. He usually tried to make me laugh by saying something inappropriate, making me look like an idiot in front of everyone. But he didn't speak to me, text me, or even look at me. He stared at the speaker the entire time. He actually paid attention. _He paid attention. _I felt sick. What was going on? I mean, it was obvious he regretted what had happened, and that he felt embarrassed or awkward or something, but was it more than that? Was he angry at me? Was-

Was I going to have to leave?

The idea nearly made me vomit on the board room floor. I shook. I felt sweat on my face, and my knees buckled. As soon as the clock hit four, I ran out the door, and as I did, I heard everyone saying, "What's wrong with Miss Potts?"

I heard Tony say, "I don't know."

**I know it was short, but was it at all worth the ridiculous wait? I certainly hope so… Anyway- please review and let me know what you think…**

**And yes, I know this story is kind of meandering all over the place, but trust me, I know what I'm doing. I hope.**

**Ha.**


	21. Neanderthal Man

I got the idea for this chapter after a rather bizarre psychology lesson… Just as a reminder, I'm not writing for IM2.

Thank you again, BlackPuma137 for being my beta. It's really appreciated!

I own nothing. That is, I do not own Iron Man.

By the way, this story will be ending soon. My ideas are wandering off to other stories…

Neanderthal Man

Stark Industries was hosting a benefit for a local children's hospital that night, which- ironically enough- Tony Stark was not attending. Even though he's "Iron Man" now and all that crap, he balked when I asked him whether he was going or not.

"Who else is going to be there?" he asked, as if he wanted to make sure there would be people there, besides me.

"Everyone."

"More specific, please," he said, taking a wrench to some metal part of his car.

I sighed, rolled my eyes. "Everyone at Stark is going-"

"The engineering crew too?"

What?

"Yes. Of course," I answered, unsure what he was driving at. I paused for a moment. "Umm… press will be there as well, and-"

"That's great. I'm not going." He continued fiddling with his car, tightening and loosening the same bolt over and over again.

He didn't want to look at me.

"Okay," I murmured, perplexed. I waited a few more minutes, standing by silently- expecting, hoping for another word from him.

It never came.

Determined to break the silence, I fell back to routine.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

He looked up and nodded, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. And only for a moment.

I turned and walked away.

**

* * *

**

I'd bought a red dress for the benefit, but it was too bright, too red, and too much. I wasn't feeling confident enough to pull it off. Black also drew too much attention.

I just wasn't feeling... I... I don't even know.

I settled for an emerald green, knee length dress I'd had for years, but never worn. Everything about it was too loose- the fit wasn't the best, but it hid the curves of my body under thin cloth, and I liked the idea of being unseen. I was too down to give a shit about whether or not I looked hot. It _was_ low cut as hell though. Then again, no one would pay any attention to my less than stellar, freckled cleavage when there are tanned, silicon beauties abounding. I threw my makeup on and left my hair down. I just didn't care.

And what the hell was wrong with Tony? Why was he being such a mean asshole? If I didn' like him so much, I'd just get on with my life, but I couldn't. He encompassed so much of my existence, I didn't know what to do without him. If he hated me so much, why didn't he just fire me? _Did _he hate me? Or was it something else entirely?

**

* * *

**

The party was a bitch. I'm afraid I wasn't in the mood to be the least bit interesting, and so everyone just ignored Tony Stark's boring PA. The only highlight of the evening was Jack Ritter. We'd met a couple months before- he was the new head engineer as Stark. He was intelligent, handsome, and very attentive, despite my ugliness.

"You look fine, Virginia," Jack said, seeing me bite my lip.

"Hmm?" I asked, playing at nonchalance. He put his hand low on my back.

"You're worried. Don't be. You look radiant."

Radiant? I looked _radiant_? I've never looked or felt radiant before, so what was so special now?

After smiling my way through an otherwise shitty evening, I made my excuses and left, realizing I had a ridiculous amount of work to do. Papers needed to be readied by the following day, and I was so far behind, it really wasn't funny. I thought I'd put the forms in my car- only, I hadn't. I realized I'd left them at Tony's house. I drove back, slowly as possible, trying to delay the unpleasant for as long as I could.

And yet I couldn't help but wonder, since when is being around Tony unpleasant?

**

* * *

**

Tony was in his workshop- which was where I'd left everything. Of course. Just my luck. Here I am, attempting to avoid him, and I have to enter his lair.

Maybe I could turn invisible and sneak in?-

No. Dear God. I was losing my mind.

He seemed to be just where I'd left him: bent over the hood of some foreign car, pulling pieces out only to put them back in.

He heard my heels.

"Forgot something?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "Just some papers. Goodnight," I said, as I grabbed the stack off the table.

"Yeah. Goodnight." He whispered. I could barely hear him.

And then suddenly, he wanted to talk.

"Did you have fun? Got out early." His voice was husky and breaking like he'd been yelling. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles under them. He looked like shit.

I nodded.

"Huh. You, uh, you meeting up with someone?" He wiped his hands on an old, red cloth.

"No." Wait. Why did I even answer than question? It was none of his business.

"Oh."

Silence.

"So did you have a good time?- talk to anyone?-" he prodded. Yesterday he didn't want to look at me, and now he wouldn't take his eyes off me. It was disconcerting. I don't like being looked at like I'm a piece of meat, or a witness on the stand.

"Yes. Of course."

He gripped the cloth, then threw it aside. The lights were dim, yet I noticed his jaw harden and his neck tense. I felt very small.

"Ritter?"

"What?"

He cleared his throat and began wringing his hands. "You know. That guy we met at the conferences a couple months ago."

"Yes. I know who he is. And yes, I did talk to him." What was he getting at? And what was so important about "a couple months ago?"

"I figured. He was all over you."

A couple months ago… a couple months ago, Tony-

A couple months ago, Tony starting distancing himself from me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, rather unkindly. He was really starting to piss me off.

"You know goddamn well what I'm talking about!" he yelled.

"What is your problem with Jack?" I asked.

His eyes widened; he looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

"What do you think? Goddamn son of a bitch-"

And there, I stopped listening. He was jealous. Of all stupid, ridiculous, idiotic things, he was jealous because of some guy I hung out with a handful of times. And it wasn't because I was socializing with another man- it was because Tony thought the "other man" was interested in more than friendship, and that I'd accepted his advances. Of all silly-

Wait- _was _he?

Radiant. He'd said I looked radiant. Tony had never even called me that.

Once, Jack had hugged me. For a long time. He'd taken me out to lunch a couple times, but that had been for business… He called me "Virginia" and invaded my personal space… And then there was that time he-

Oh shit. No wonder Tony was annoyed. What had seemed harmless to me, was, well, not really.

It's amazing how clueless I can be sometimes.

Silence brought me back to reality. Tony was breathing rapidly, and about as wound up as a coiled spring. I thought he was literally going to burst.

I took several steps toward him and placed my hand on his stomach. He needed to calm down. His muscles moved harshly under my touch- his breathing was quick and heavy.

He didn't respond. He looked at me intensely for a moment, then looked at my hand.

And then he moved so damn fast I didn't have time to do much of anything but comply: he crushed me to him and kissed me violently.

**

* * *

**

Once, in college, my psychology teacher went through what she called the "Neanderthal" complex. She claimed, from her own research and opinions, that men have a quality similar to wild animals when it comes to females. A woman is their territory, and other men are seen as competition, and are therefore, dangerous.

Men will insist on "Public Displays of Affection" in order to cement their ownership to others who may be watching. Some feel the need to "stake ownership." Others retreat when they feel threatened.

At the time, I'd assumed it was bullshit.

****

**

* * *

**

Tony and I went to a conference a short while into our "relationship." We sat next to each other, held hands under the tables, and texted the entire time. Tony kept staring at me- not leering, just looking at me, like he was happy with what he saw. But he wasn't the only one who kept looking at me.

The new head engineer, a tall, blonde athlete who looked at bit like a Greek statue kept watching me to. Occasionally, our eyes met, and at the time, I'd assumed it was by accident. He'd politely smiled, and so I smiled back. But then, he kept doing, and insisted afterward that we be introduced. We talked for several minutes, discovering we had friends and schooling in common. We laughed and chatted, and decided it would be fine to meet up sometime at Stark and hang out.

And Tony had sat there, watching silently, trying to talk to a lab technician. When we walked out, we walked out separately, meeting up at his car, then driving silently back. I'd put it down to exhaustion.

* * *

His body pushed me firmly against the wall. The thin material of my dress provided little protection from the searing heat of his hands and his mouth; my skin was burning.

He was desperate- I knew from the intensity of his actions that he needed _some _reassurance of my affections.

I pushed him away- he'd taken the damn breath out of me. I thought I was going to suffocate from being kissed to death. I looked at him- and I felt pity. He was so unsure of how I felt about him that he had fallen prey to jealousy.

I put my arms around his neck and pulled him back against me. It was messy and by no means pretty. Kisses in movies are so well coordinated. We were sloppy and needy, sometimes completely missing each other's mouths. His tongue was pressing into my mouth and I let him in. His hands were everywhere. Eventually, he slipped his grip to my thighs and lifted me up, and I was more than willing to wrap my legs around him.

Somehow, my hands found their way under his shirt and slid up his back. He took the hint and pulled his wife-beater up and over his shoulders. The feel of his skin caused me to make some less than modest noises, and if he wasn't already in overdrive, he was now.

Between the feel of his lips on my neck and his hands grazing over my body, I can't exactly say how we ended up on the floor. The cold concrete didn't bother me in the least- it provided a relief from the fire that was devouring me.

It was amazing- you'd think from the desperate way he was making love to me he wouldn't have the breath to kiss me, or least of all, talk to me. But he did. He kept whispering how much he loved me and needed me.

He loved me.

**Well, what did you think? And yes, I know, it's a little messy, but love is not pretty. At all.**

**Hope you enjoyed, and yes, this is ending shortly…**

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	22. Alright

Dang… I've been a little delayed. (Please don't kill me!) Well, this chapter is the end… I know it's kinda short, but I felt it wrapped things up pretty well.

I do not own Iron Man.

Alright

I woke up, sore and lazy. My body was in a tangled mess with the sheets, and the sun was adding freckles to my already spotted shoulders. I was warm and comfy- except for my aching neck. I put my hands over my mouth, pulling away instantly. My lips were bruised; there was a small cut also. I smiled.

Tony.

He wasn't asleep beside me. He wasn't in the bedroom at all, or even the bathroom. He was almost never there when I woke up in his room, which had become rather frequent. Tony was always downstairs, tinkering around, or sometimes, he was off in foreign places blowing up bad guys. But I had gotten use to it. I'd accepted it. I had to. I had no other choice. And I was alright with that.

**

* * *

**

When I got downstairs, I smelled the burning pancakes before anything else registered. I walked on tiptoe- trying to sneak up on the chef. Usually when I tried this, I didn't succeed, but this morning, Tony wasn't paying attention. He was like a sitting duck- but not a duck… anyway-

He didn't jump or squeal like a little girl when I put my arms around him. A casual observer may have guessed he wasn't even startled, but I knew he was. I knew him- I knew what the odd intake of breath meant.

"Good morning, oh fair maiden," he muttered against my hair. I poked his ribs carefully- not expecting him to pull away like he did.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

He looked down, his eyes unwilling to meet mine.

"It's nothing."

"Yes, it is something. What's wrong?"

In response, he pulled up his shirt- a large bruise blossomed on his ribcage.

"Tony- what have you been doing to yourself?" I said in my best mommy voice as I ran my finger over his purple skin.

"There was a bad explosion at an oil refinery this morning-" His voice trailed off.

So that's where he'd been.

"Sorry I didn't wake you. I know I should have, but you look so nice when you sleep. Plus, I really think you needed your sleep after-"

"After what?" I asked, carefully raising an eyebrow.

He smiled his puppy dog smile.

"It's fine, Tony."

"Are you sure? Next time, I promise I'll tell you when I leave."

"No. No it's alright."

**

* * *

**

"I'm sorry these turned out so bad," he apologized. I shook my head, attempting to swallow the large, charred bit of pancake I'd unwisely taken.

"They're fine," I lied.

Tony looked at his own plate and frowned.

"Pep, I've told you before you're a bad liar. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do." We grinned at each other.

He reached forward and attempted to take my breakfast plate from me.

"Hey-" I said, putting my fork out to stab his thieving hand.

"No! You don't like it!"

"Tony- the pancakes are fine."

"You're lying."

"No. I'm not." I put on my best, super-serious face. I'd been practicing this. Lying, I had decided, was an art form I needed to improve on. Apparently, I'd gotten better. A lot better.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his eyes getting big with hope.

To tell the truth?

"They're fine," I said, pausing when I saw the disbelief on his face. "Really Tony. They're alright."

The look on his face was worth my little fabrication. Lying to him, in this case, was worth it. It was perfectly alright.

It was alright.

**TAAAA DAAAAAA! (Fireworks explode!) That's all folks. I am done. Finally. I told you I'd finish.**

**Please review for me, this one last time. I'd really appreciate it.**

**And thank you all for reading this in the first place.**


End file.
